


The Wanderer and the Warden

by JuliaBrownen



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBrownen/pseuds/JuliaBrownen
Summary: For many centuries, Rána has aimlessly wandered Middle Earth healing the sick while nursing her own broken heart.  She waits for the sea-longing; accepting her time in Middle Earth is near its close.  When a party from Lothlórien arrives in Rivendell, Rána connects once more with the Marchwarden of Lothlórien.  Maybe she still has a purpose in this world after all.  *Slow Burn*  Haldir/Original Female Character.  Books/Movie-verse.
Relationships: Haldir of Lothlórien/Original Character(s), Haldir of Lothlórien/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82





	1. Introduction

_“I fear I shall never see you again.”_ _  
  
“Do not say such a thing Amarië," Orithil chided as she folded the last of her gowns before shutting her valise. "We will return once we have settled the lands Fëanor has spoken of...Aegnor has promised.”_

_Her sister’s tears fed the concern Orithil had spent the past month trying to bury. If any her sister kept up her pleading, Orithil feared she would be unable to leave._

_Aegnor would be here soon to retrieve her. She would not renege on her vow to him._

_Amarië continued, “Father forbade us to follow Fëanor into exile. You heard him. He will disown you. You'll be an outcast from our family...”  
_

_Amarië's voice wavered as a new stream of tears rolled down her ivory cheeks._

_Orithil kneeled before her elder sister who sat upon the bed they had shared as children. She stroked her sister’s pale skin and shushed her like a mother consoling a child. Although she was the younger sibling, she was always protective of her delicate elder sister. Amarië was sensitive; prone to outbursts of tears at the slightest provocation. Unlike Amarië, Orithil was a stronger spirit. It was why she did not fear the consequences of what she was about to do.  
  
"I swore to Aegnor that I would go with him into exile. I did not tell you this, for fear you would tell Father but...Aegnor and I exchanged promises. We are engaged.” _

_To emphasize her point, Orithil revealed her right index finger decorated with a band of delicate silver. The silver ring resembled a twisted tree branch of the laurinquë tree and in the center of the tree branch was a golden flower like those that bloomed on the laurinquë in spring. At the sight of the ring, Amarië fought back a sob and covered her mouth._

_She stood and crossed to the window shaking her head, “I cannot believe you were foolish enough to do such a thing. You do not have our parents’ blessing. It is not a **real** engagement without their blessing.”_

_How could it not be a real engagement? Aegnor and her were destined to be together. Promises were exchanged. Intentions made clear. Why did she need the approval of others to confirm a truth she knew in her bones?_

_Even though her sister's accusation stung her pride, she kept her voice hushed as to not wake all who slept below, “It is a **real** engagement, Amarië. Aegnor and I said the words and exchanged rings. What more is there to it than that? He says we are to be married once we have a settlement of our own. You may be older than I, Amarië, but at least I am not too scared to follow Aegnor into exile. Unlike you, I will not sit idly by like a terrified little elfling and do nothing while the love of my life risks everything for our future.”_

_Her words were cutting. Orithil regretted them as soon as they passed her lips._

_It was common knowledge. Their Father decreed no member of their family would step foot in Arda. The Vanyar would remain in the graces of the Valar._

_Ever the dutiful daughter, Amarië had broken with Finrod as soon as Finrod announced his intentions of following Fëanor into exile. To his credit, Finrod did not pressure Amarië to join him in exile. Orithil wondered if it was a testament to the honesty of their attachment. However, it was evident how Amarië’s heart was broken._

_Before Orithil could apologize, Amarië’s shoulders became rigid and her hands clenched the windowsill. She flinched as her sister whipped around to face her. Amarie's figure was illuminated by the moonlight from the window._

_Her voice was a deadly whisper which cut Orithil to the bone, “You may think me just a frightened little elfling, but you are wrong. I have foretold the deaths of the Sons of Finarfin. All of them shall perish under the wrath of Morgoth and their souls shall wander the Halls of Mandos until the Valar deems them worthy of rebirth. I will not choose to watch Finrod die and be separated from him, alone and without family, in this new Middle Earth. I will wait the eons it takes until he is once more on the shores of Valinor and free to be with me for the rest of time.”_

_Like a foul taste, Amarië spit out, “What you see as fear, Orithil, I see as courage to allow the one I love to go and fulfill his own destiny.”_

_Silence fell upon the room as the sister stood facing one another while Amarië’s words hung in the air between them. Orithil heard a high-pitched ringing in her ears, and the ground beneath her became unsteady. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to steel her resolve; fainting would be an embarrassing thing to do right now. Her sister was gifted with foresight. Her predictions were never wrong._

_Why had Amarië not said something before this?_

_Orithil regretted keeping her engagement a secret from her sister. She wondered if Amarië felt sorry for not divulging her premonition sooner._

_Before this moment, they had told each other everything._

_When had their relationship devolved into lies and half-truths?_

_The sound of muffled footsteps outside the window caught the acute attention of both sisters. Aegnor had arrived to take her to meet the others. Orithil glanced down at the valise in her hands and wondered, for the first time since she had agreed to this plan, if she was making the right decision._

_“I must go,” she mumbled. Her voice was suddenly empty and hollow. The conviction Orithil once possessed was gone, but she had to meet Aegnor. He would be expecting her. Orithil could not disappoint him._

_As she turned to leave, she felt a hand grab her wrist. Amarië’s pale eyes bore into her own, their faces inches apart. Orithil tried to wipe away tears that had begun to fall, but her free hand held her valise. Abruptly, she was pulled into a hug. Her valise dropping to the stone floor. Orithil relished the feeling of her elder sister’s arms around her._

_It was as if her burdens were momentarily lifted._

_Now, it was Amarie who comforted her, “I am sorry...I should not have said such things to you. I know that you are determined to follow Aegnor on his journey, but I fear losing my sister. Premonitions are not unalterable. There may be hope…”_

_Her words died out and Orithil knew her sister was only attempting to protect her from further pain. The pair remained embraced for a moment before they broke apart._

_Orithil brusquely wiped away her tears feeling suddenly ridiculous. She shook her head, embarrassed, “It is I who need to be forgiven. I spoke harshly. I know that you love Finrod. I promise that I shall do all that I can to protect him from harm. By the Valar, I hope your vision is wrong.”_

_A comforting smile crossed Amarie’s face, "I will pray it is untrue. May the Valar guide your journey."_

_With this she kissed Orithil’s cheek._

_Giving a final parting glance to her sister, Orithil grabbed her valise and made her way through her family home. She studied the furniture and decorations she would likely not see for many centuries; maybe never again. Time in Valinor passed without thought. Would it be the same in this Middle Earth?_

_Orithil descended the stairway and came to stand before her parents’ bedroom._

_For a moment, she watched her parents sleeping peacefully in their bed. Their golden hair was glowing in the light that shone from the window. Her father had rallied against Fëanor; disavowing his preaching. He wanted to protect his family from harm, but Orithil was old enough to make her own choices. From her pocket, Orithil pulled out a scroll and set it upon a table by the doorway._

_It held an explanation that she hoped comforted her parents in some small way when they discovered her disappearance._

_With a silent prayer for forgiveness, Orithil turned and left them to their slumber._ _  
  
The night air was warm. Her family’s home overlooked the sea and the salt breeze clung to her skin. Orithil loved the sea. The sound of the gulls’ cry was like a childhood lullaby. This was likely her last night in Valinor for some time. The idea pierced her heart like a knife.  
  
Orithil made her way around her home; peering into the dark to find Aegnor. _

_A hooded figure appeared from the shadows and pulled down its hood. There stood her lover, his blazing eyes upon her. Orithil rushed to him, throwing herself into his arms. Aegnor’s arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, and he swung her in the air twirling her like she was not but a feather. In his arms, Orithil found her conviction once more. She was renewed._

_Gently, Aegnor set her down. She watched his gloved hand trace her cheek; felt the soft leather against her face. While his fingers remained splayed on her cheek, his thumb came to rest upon her lower lip and he dragged it across the soft skin. He bent his head. Orithil felt her stomach flutter as she met his lips. His kiss was fire itself and she would gladly be consumed by his flame._

_A promise of more lingered beneath the surface of their kiss. It made Orithil ache._ _  
  
“Come, mime mel, we must join the others, or else we shall be left behind,” Aegnor murmured as he pulled away. He took hold of her valise with one hand while the other intertwined with her own. He pulled her down the path that led to the center of town. Any seed of anxiety that had been planted by Amarië’s words was overpowered by the sense of overwhelming joy she felt beside her love.  
  
Even if they both perished, Orithil would spend her days by Aegnor’s side until that fateful moment._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mime Mel = "My Love" in Quenya
> 
> Please kudos and comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portions in italics take place in the characters’ past.

The morning sky greeted her as she awoke from her dream-filled sleep. Rána gazed at the orange canopy of the rising sun; rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Last night, she had pushed her bed over to the balcony. Her sleep had been restless, and she thought the sound of the waterfall would help. The babbling of the water comforted her reminding her of Valinor’s shores. She had yet to hear the true call of the sea, as many of her kind had heard, but she waited for it with bated breath. She would welcome the cry of the gull that would bring her home.

A voice called to her from below. Rána rose from her cot and peered over the balcony to see Elrohir standing beneath her.

“What do you want Elrohir? Were you not taught that it is rude to disturb someone so early in the morning?”

“I am sorry to wake a sleeping goddess, but I could not pass up the chance to take you for an early morning walk through the gardens. The last of the summer flowers are in bloom. Though their beauty pales in comparison to your own.”

Rána rolled her eyes leaning her head against her hands. It was too early in the morning for romantic overtures.

“I am old enough to be your grandmother, Elrohir. Do you forget that I was by your mother’s side when you entered this world as a naked little elfling?”

“I promise you will not find me a _little_ elfling anymore,” Elrohir replied, the innuendo dripping from his voice. The smirk on his face was soon gone when Rána’s pillow made contact with his face. 

“I’ve told you time and time again, Elrohir, that I am not an elf maiden that you may woo with your silly manners. Besides, I must visit the healing wing.” Rána remarked dryly. “Unlike you, I have duties that I must see to and cannot spend my time admiring pretty flowers.”

The elf appeared dejected, but Rána knew his feelings would mend. Since he had come of age, Elrohir, and his brother, Elladan, had flirted and teased her without shame. She did not mind flirtations for the most part, but she had her limits. This morning she did not feel in a mood to indulge the elf’s caprices.

Rána went to leave, but Elrohir called out again, “I came for another reason too. My mother wishes to see you, once you have finished your business in the healing wing. She has news—my grandmother, Lady Galadriel, is coming to pay a visit!”

The idea of Lady Galadriel visiting Rivendell caused Rána’s eyebrows to raise to her scalp. Why would the Lady of Lorien be visiting now? Lady Celebrían had just visited her mother two years ago. Also, why would Lady Celebrían be sending Elrohir as messenger when she normally came on her own to speak to Rána? Questioning Elrohir would likely prove fruitless. The elf’s memory was as short-lived as a fruit fly. Despite her curiosity, Rána assured Elrohir that she would visit his mother no later than midday. No doubt all would reveal itself in due time. 

With a parting wave, Elrohir left to cause mischief elsewhere leaving Rána to finally to get ready. The washroom in her residence brought spring water to a large tub and basin for her use. She had bathed last night, and therefore only needed the basin. Splashing cold water on her face, Rána combed through her hair and fastened it away from her face. She chose a burgundy gown from her wardrobe. Burgundy would hide any blood or bodily fluids she may encounter in the healing wing. After grabbing her work apron off the hook in the hallway, the elleth made her way out of her residence and over the bridge that connected her residence to the healing wing. 

As High Healer of Rivendell, Rána lived close to where the sick and injured of Rivendell came to be treated. She greeted Meyrav, her assistant, as she entered the wing. The younger healer seemed relieved at Rána’s appearance and rushed over.

“Thank the Valar you are here, Rána. Master Tate has taken a turn for the worse.” 

Meyrav gestured to a boy in the last cot. Immediately, Rána dropped to the boy’s bedside and leant over him. 

“I administered the tea that you left, but that does not seem to have any effect.”

Rána frowned shaking her head, “The tea was meant to soothe his throat, but it’s useless against much else. Let me listen to his chest.”

With Meyrav’s aid, Rána was able to undo the boy’s tunic and place her ear upon his bare chest. She instructed him to take a deep breath, and the boy complied. His lungs crackled as he inhaled, and he soon fell into a coughing fit that wracked his chest. Rána put her fingers to his neck and could feel his heart beating rapidly. She felt his forehead and it burned beneath her palm. Placing the quilts back around him and smoothed his hair, she caught the boy’s wide brown eyes staring up at her. She softly spoke to the boy, whispering words he would not understand, and soon the child’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing slowed. The sleeping spell would last for the rest of the day. The boy would need all the rest he could get.

Once the boy was asleep, Rána turned to Meyrav frowning, “I fear it is pneumonia in both of his lungs. We’ve caught it early, but we’ll need to be vigilant as this may prove deadly if we do not treat it properly.”

“Master Tate has a frail disposition, unlike the rest of the fosterlings,” Meyrav muttered in disbelief. “I am surprised he was taken on to train as a Ranger.”

“Lord Elrond said he was an orphan, but his father was a Ranger. Perhaps, Master Tate may never choose to wield a sword, but we must give him the chance. Let me prepare a poultice for his chest, it should help break up some of the fluid. Is there anybody else that needs tending?”

“No, the guard from yesterday was fine by nightfall and returned to his post.”

Meyrav remained by Tate’s bedside while Rána went into the crockery off the main wing. A stone table and stove took up the room along with shelves and shelves of glass jars and books. Rivendell had an excellent library containing numerous volumes on healing, some Rána had even written herself. She lit the stove and put several kettles to on to boil water. Grabbing several jars of dried herbs, and a mortar and pestle, she set about making a paste. She dropped some corn mint leaves into one of the boiling kettles and waited until the water turned an oily brown. She drained the corn mint leaves, taking a moment to savor the smell of the hot oil that remained in the kettle. 

* * *

_“Now, corn mint grows in the fields. The lilac flowers signify that it has yet to ripen. When the flowers grow into these waxy leaves, that is when the plant is ripe. Take the leaves and brew them for no more than an hour. A brown liquid will develop. Strain the leaves and the brown liquid becomes an essence of the plant that may be combined with other compounds which open the nose and lungs. Hear, smell.”_

_Adanel thrust a wooden spoon of steaming liquid below Orithil’s nose. Orithil took in the smell of the essence and her nostrils burned. She couldn’t help but sputter into her sleeve. Adanel laughed, placing the spoon back into the pot. The two of them stood before a large table in the cellars of a keep. The table was littered with cut plants and dirty bowls. The pair had been working for what seemed like hours. Adanel had been walking her through the steps on how to concoct numerous blends of herbs used to cure all sorts of men’s ailments. Right now, they were working on a special poultice and Orithil was awestruck at the ingenuity of the wise woman. She stuck her finger into the liquid again and marveled at the oiliness of the substance._

_Curious, she questioned, “What ailments clogs the lungs? Elves do not suffer such maladies, you see.”_

_Adanel grinned, shaking her head, “Elves are a lucky race to be sure. Man suffers from all sorts of ailments; consumption, fevers, pneumonia. These all clog the senses with fluid until it strikes the lungs. A healthy man can withstand most of these illnesses, but the children and the elderly are at increased risk. Their constitutions cannot handle the strain of the fluid. At first sign of any maladies, a poultice must be applied to a person’s chest and she must be insulated under covers for the poultice to be able to break up the fluid.”_

_The brown liquid was poured into a mortar that had a paste in it. Adanel’s long fingers took the pestle and mixed the two together. She used the wooden spoon to scrape the poultice from the mortar and slathered it on a large waxy leaf. Gently, Adanel walked to a cot set up in the corner where a small girl lay._

_Orithil gazed down on the girl, who was no more than a toddler. The girl’s skin was dusky, and her dark brown hair curled in a wild fashion, so unlike an elf. She watched in fascination as Adanel lay the leaf like a bandage covering the breadth of the girl’s chest. Adanel then tucked a heavy quilt around her. When the child began to cough, the wise woman shushed her, stroking her curls. Without a moment’s hesitance, Orithil placed a hand over the child’s forehead and whispered a sleeping spell like the one her mother had used to settle her as an elfling. The child fell into a deep sleep. Adanel gazed at Orithil appreciatively._

_“Will she survive?” Orithil ventured to ask._

_Adanel nodded her head and winked, “Little Andreth shall overcome this, I’m sure of it. She will go on to grow into a beauty, just like her mother.”_

* * *

Rána applied the bandage across Master Tate’s chest and tucked several blankets around him. She instructed Meyrav to keep watch over his fever and to alert her at once if Master Tate fell into worse condition. 

Untying her apron and placing it upon a hook, she left the healing wing. The sun shined directly above her and she savored the light. The warmth that grazed her skin betrayed the coolness in the air. A few orange leaves fell as a breeze rushed through the trees. 

Autumn would soon be here, then winter. Then another year would be gone. 

So many millennia had passed since Rána had stepped foot in Middle Earth that a year passed without thought. She had no familial ties remaining in this land save for the friendships she had made along her travels. Beleraind, Doriath, Gondor and finally Rivendell—Rána had crossed the width and breadth of Middle Earth offering aid to all those who needed it. Upon the wedding of Celebrían to Lord Elrond, Rána decided to remain in Rivendell rather than remain in the company of Lady Galadriel. Galadriel had understood. Rána was a wanderer searching for something to fill the part of her that remained empty. Not that she wasn’t proud to share her gift of healing with the inhabitants of Rivendell. However, Rána’s work as a healer did little to distract from the feeling that some part of her spirit had yet to be fulfilled. It was a balm to keep the symptoms at bay. Nothing more, nothing less.

The home of the Lord and Lady of Rivendell sat high upon the cliff’s edge bordered by waterfalls that brought rainwater down from the mountains. The guards watched her as she passed down the long hallway that would lead to Celebrían’s chambers. With her mind focused elsewhere, Rána collided with a firm body and lost her balance. Before she could hit the floor, she was swept into the arms of Elladan, the twin to Elrohir. 

“Ah, Rána, how fortuitous am I to have such a goddess in my arms. I heard my brother paid you a visit this morning. I am glad that his affections are unreturned, and it is I who truly has your heart!”

Rána squirmed in Elladan’s grasp attempting to detangle herself from his hands which were wrapped around her like a vice. Not a moment later, she heard a surprised gasp and saw Elrohir approaching them. Today, they would surely test her patience. 

“What is this I find: a lover’s tryst. Shall I lay down a challenge to defend your honor, Rána?” 

Freeing herself, Rána could not help but cry out in frustration, “You will defend yourself against the whipping I will give the both of you. You insufferable trolls!”

Elrohir came to lean an arm on Elladan. Both wore sly grins on their faces. Standing next to one another, it was hard to distinguish them except that Elrohir stood an inch taller and had his father’s black eyes. 

“Do you hear that, dear brother. The fair Rána shall give us a whipping!”

“Who do you think she shall pick first, or may I volunteer—”

“That is enough!” The commanding voice of Elrond cut through the air and the twins faces were struck by panic. They immediately fell into line like soldiers before a commander. Rána felt Elrond walk up behind her, and she smiled triumphantly at the young lordlings in front of her. She had half a mind to stick her tongue out at them.

“Both of you, return to the training grounds, I shall deal with you later!”

The twins bowed their heads at Lord Elrond’s command before nearly sprinting away from their father. Rána watched them go. She turned her attention to Lord Elrond who looked tired despite his immortality, “I apologize for my sons' behavior. I fear their foolishness will only grow with age.”

“It is a foolhardiness enabled by youth.” Rána shrugged. She had been equally silly when she had come of age. She had run wild through the streets with her sister, giggling at all the handsome elves that would pass by. Her parents would talk endlessly of decorum and reputation, but at that age, Rána had not listened. Life was full of possibility. 

“Let them enjoy it for as long as they can. We both know that the evils of the world will harden their spirits within the wink of an eye.” 

The words sounded forlorn on her tongue. It did not go unnoticed by the Lord of Rivendell.

“You are troubled, my friend?” 

It was an open-ended question. Elrond had a habit of reading her like an open book. He was a wise elf. He had the habit of drawing out all the truth’s that elves hid in their hearts. 

Rána sighed and shook her head, “It’s not so much that I am troubled. I just suddenly feel… _old_. Your sons make me miss my youth which was many, many ages ago.”

Lord Elrond nodded in understanding, “We are old. We elves have seen the dawn of this world and watched as it has been shaped for better and for worse. However, we _feel_ old until we are faced with new challenges in our life. We all still have many a role to play in this world. I am sure of this.”

She kept herself from rolling her eyes at the Rivendell Lord. Rána felt frustrated. Her musings from earlier clouded her mind. The world lived at peace now. The evil that had once wrecked it was vanquished. She survived where others had perished. 

What challenges would she have before her? Surely her work as a healer was not the challenge Elrond suggested. Whether or not an elf or man lived or died was up to the Valar, or whatever gods Men chose to worship. Rána believed that fate was etched in stone. She had tried to change the future before and had failed. No, her journey in this world was reaching a close. Rána was certain. She only hoped to hear the call of the sea. When the sea called to her, she would leave this world and sail for the Grey Havens. Once more, Rána would be with her family. 

As if reading her thoughts, Lord Elrond interjected, “Do you not wonder why you have yet to hear the call of the sea?”

Rána stopped abruptly. They were still feet away from Lady Celebrían’s chamber door. Elrond stared at her, his black eyes flashing, “You have many challenges ahead, Rána. I promise your journey in this world is not finished.”

Lord Elrond had the gift of foresight. The Valar granted him this wisdom, but rarely did he speak it aloud. Rána felt dumbstruck by his words. Her mouth was agape. A thousand questions sat on the tip of her tongue. Had Elrond had seen her future? Did he know what lay before her? 

Eons ago, she had been foolish enough not to heed the words of a prophet. This time she would eagerly listen to what destiny foretold. 

Before she could question him, Lord Elrond spoke, “I believe Lady Celebrían requested your company?”

“Um, yes, she sent Elrohir with a message for me this morning,” Rána gawked. How dare he change the subject! He teased her with his words and left her wanton for more. She was about to object, but Elrond raised his hand to stop her. They would speak no more of his prophecy.

The two fell back into step towards Celebrían’s chambers. 

“Lady Galadriel comes to visit. She is expected any day now. They travel through the High Pass, which has most recently been cleared of goblins, but still the trip is tedious.”

“Why does she come to Rivendell? Lady Celebrían visited Lorien two years ago. Is there a special purpose for this visit?”

“I will let Celebrían explain,” Elrond said as he threw open the door to his wife’s chamber.

Rána was greeted by the sight of Lady Celebrían standing in the middle of her solar. Her figure was aglow in the light of the midday sun. Celebrían turned to the visitors. She embraced her husband as he entered the room. Lord Elrond had a hand around his wife, and a smile painted his face. The domestic scene caused Rana’s chest to tighten. 

With her husband’s arm still around her shoulders, Lady Celebrían faced Rána with outstretched hands. Rána came forward to take her friend’s outstretched hands. As she came closer, Rána realized there was something peaked about Celebrían’s complexion; her rosy complexion was pale. There was weariness in her eyes which, to the untrained eyes, would go unnoticed. Rána had known Celebrían since she was an elfling. Something was amiss.

“What is this news that brings me to your chambers? Do you feel ill?”

Celebrían shook her head, exchanging a knowing look with her husband. Rána wondered what this great secret was. Elves rarely fell ill. What possible malady plagued her friend? Then, a sudden thought entered Rána’s head. Memories rushed back and Rána knew in an instant what caused Celebrían to suffer. She had seen the same symptoms more than a hundred years before. 

Without thinking, Rána let the words fall out in a tumble, “You are with child!”


	3. Chapter 3

Navigating the High Pass through the Misty Mountains was proving a greater challenge than Haldir had expected. The passage was narrow; slickened by rains that had ceased to fall since they had ascended the mountain. The caravan had to traverse it single file. Lord Celeborn led the caravan with Lady Galadriel trailing closely behind him. Haldir and his wardens brought up the rear. The goblins had been cleared from the mountainside, Lord Elrond had assured them. Yet, Haldir and Lord Celeborn had agreed that all precautions were necessary. All were devoted to the Lady of Lórien. All would lay down their lives for her.

Haldir brought up his cloak, though it did little to prevent the rain from slickening his brow. He heard his brother, Rúmil, who rode before him, call out, “Do you think this storm shall stop before we make it down the mountain?”

“It is unlikely, the storm clouds have yet to break since we entered the High Pass.”

If his voice held any note of exasperation, Haldir did not attempt to hide it. Only Rúmil could hear him. Haldir was out of earshot from the rest of the wardens. 

Lady Celebrían visited Lothlórien just over two years past. He could not fathom why they were risking their safety for what he believed to be a mere social call. Of course, he would never express his thoughts aloud. Haldir was Chief Marchwarden of Lothlórien, his duty was to lead by example. He knew his wardens grew weary from the storm. It would not do well for him to voice his opposition to the journey.

The High Pass was riddled with danger; all sorts of evils lingered in the Mountains’ shadows. Haldir had passed through it many times before; when he had traveled to Lindon to serve in the army of Gil-Galad, when he had traveled to Mordor to fight in the Last Alliance, and many times since then. Despite Lord Elrond’s written assurances, he could feel a dark presence surround them. The sooner they made it through the pass, the better.

“Let us quicken our pace, we must make it down the mountainside by nightfall. Pass the message along to Lord Celeborn—”

A thunder clap like none he had heard before sounded out. Lightning flashed and Haldir shielded his eyes as his horse bucked. He gripped the reigns, steadying the beast, but soon the ground below him rumbled. Whirling his gaze around, he heard the foreign cries of orcs. It was then that he saw them; climbing up from the gorge, a league below the caravan. Their advance must have been muffled by the thunder. 

“Wardens, ready your bows,” Haldir cried. “Rumil, direct the Lord and Lady of Lórien to ride ahead, two wardens shall ride with them.”

His brother nodded and sent the word along. Haldir readied his bow, pulling an arrow from his quiver. From this angle, they would be able to slay the first line of orcs easily giving their lord and lady time to get away. Haldir watched Lord Celeborn look back in his saddles. The elves’ gazes met. Lord Celeborn nodded silently to Haldir before unsheathing his own sword. He spurned his horse into a gallop and Lady Galadriel followed him with two wardens readied for an attack. Soon, the Lady of Lorien was but a bright blur in the distance. 

At least she would be safe.

Refocusing on the orcs below, Haldir waited until the band was closer until he gave word for the first round of arrows. He signaled and relished the sound of the orcs’ squeals as the arrows met their targets. Again, the wardens readied their arrows, and Haldir gave the signal to fire. The orc party was not very large, but they were rapidly ascending the mountainside. These monsters thrived in the dark corners of the Misty Mountains. This was their home terrain.

“Ride on! We are closely approaching a wider path and we may meet them more comfortably in combat,” the Marchwarden ordered. The rain was now a fine mist, but the sooner they cleared the narrow trail of the mountain, the better. 

The path soon expanded, and the wardens were able to comfortably band together. The orcs followed on foot behind them. Biting and scratching towards them in a black mass. Haldir would not have the orcs chase them into Rivendell. They would stand here and slay them. With nearly a dozen wardens on horseback against a little more than thirty orcs, the odds were favorable. Haldir felt anticipation rise into his chest as he brandished his sword before him. Riding forward flanked by his wardens, his sword sank into the chest of an orc while he sliced at another’s back. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the High Pass. 

An orc grabbed ahold of his leg and Haldir swung his blade into the orc’s neck. He searched for the orc’s leader, knowing that it would be the largest orc in the group. It was then he saw a large creature towering over the others. From the build of the orc, Haldir knew it to be a hobgloblin; a half-goblin, orc hybrid. It was taller and of stockier build than a regular orc. Its hide was also thicker. Haldir directed his horse around and onward towards the hobgoblin. His wardens parted and he sped forward with his sword raised. The hobgoblin screamed, the cry reverberating in Haldir’s ears. The hobgoblin raised his warhammer and swung at Haldir. His horse dodged the attack, but it turned sharply and Haldir held on as he swayed in the saddle. He guided his horse back to face the hobgoblin.

The hobgoblin swung again. Haldir witnessed the spiked warhammar strike Rúmil’s horse knocking the poor creature down. His brother gracefully leapt from the saddle, rolling until he stood again. Haldir urged his horse onward as the hobgoblin struck out at Rúmil. His brother dodged the attack, but soon came into combat with another orc. Haldir dismounted from his horse and ran full speed at hobgoblin; sliding through its legs. As he did, Haldir sliced at the sensitive skin of the hobgoblin’s knees. The monster wailed and smashed indiscriminately into the fray. Haldir avoided the warhammer but watched in horror as the hammer struck Rúmil in the chest. His elven armor took most of the brunt, but bright blood spurted from Rúmil’s shoulder, where the gap in the armor left him exposed. The cry of his brother pierced his heart, but Haldir steeled his will and focused on the skirmish.

With all this strength, Haldir threw himself upon the back of the hobgoblin. The neck would be the most sensitive place of all. The hobgblin’s claws scratched at his vest, but he took his blade and sliced it across the creature’s jugular. With a sputtering last breath, the hobgoblin fell to the ground. Haldir stood on its back, his chest heaving.

The rest of the orcs were slain in no time. 

When the last of the orcs were killed and thrown over the mountainside, Haldir fell to his brother’s side. Rúmil laid on the ground, his breath ragged. He cried out and Haldir held him down trying to figure out the cause of his brother’s pain. Another warden removed Rúmil’s chest armor and pushed away his tunic. Haldir heard the warden gasp as the blow from the warhammer was revealed. The wound in Rumil’s shoulder now bled black.

The hobgoblin’s warhammer had been poisoned. 

“Ready the horses! We must reach Rivendell immediately,” Haldir ordered. 

Rumil’s life depended on it.

* * *

  
  
Rána sat before a glowing fireplace. The heat warmed her heels. She glanced over at Celebrían who sat in a chair beside her. The Lady of Rivendell drank from a tea cup. Rána had prepared for her a special tea. It was a fortifying drink that Rána gave to all who were with child. Unlike most elves that Rána had nursed while pregnant, Celebrían needed special attention. Her delicate constitution was pushed to the limits when she was with child. Rána remembered that it had been a difficult pregnancy for Celebrían when she had carried the twins. The elfling she carried now would likely test her friend’s strength, as well.

The news of Celebrían’s pregnancy had come to Rána as quite a shock. Over a hundred years had passed since the twins had been born. They were fully grown elves, soon to be warriors and Lords in their father’s wake. With two healthy elflings, it was a surprise that the Valar chose to bless Celebrían with another.

Not that she wasn’t happy for her friend. Rána just wondered if some were blessed by the Valar more than others.

Long ago, she had hoped to be blessed with elflings. Nonetheless, it was not the Valar’s will.

The quiet of Celebrían’s chambers was soon destroyed by the sound of footsteps and calamity outside the door.

Elrohir and Elladan busted through the doorway, their black hair whipping behind them like banners. The tea cup in Celebrían’s hand fell to the floor. It shattered against the stone. Rána and Celebrían both stood from their chairs at the same time, ignoring the glass and spilled tea at their feet.

“ _Nin hîn_ , what is wrong?” Celebrían implored.

The twins began to speak, each interjecting over the other in a stream of nonsense. Rána made out the words “Lady Galadriel” and “Orcs.” 

“Silence! One of you speak, and the other stay silent,” Rána demanded. The twins fell silent exchanging a look as if to decide which would speak. Finally, Elrohir began to explain, “The caravan carrying our grandmother, the Lady Galadriel, was set upon by orcs. She has made it past the gates with our grandfather. Father has met them in the courtyard. The wardens remained behind to slay the orcs, but there is word that one of them has been injured.”

Celebrían whimpered bringing a hand to her mouth. She wavered on her feet. Rána grasped her friend by the shoulders and lowered the Lady of Rivendell back into her chair. Assured Celebrían would not faint, Rána sprang to action.

“Elladan, stay with your mother. Elrohir, go meet the wardens in the courtyard. Direct the injured elf to the healing wing, I will follow you.”

Thankfully, the twins understood the solemnity of the situation and did not chose to argue with her or tease her. Elladan stood by his mother as Rána followed Elrohir out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nin hîn = "my children" in Sindarin.


	4. Chapter 4

_ The elven stronghold in Nargothrond was a stone fortress beneath rocky hills and muddy lakes. It was citadel unlike one Orithil had ever seen. With the help of dwarves, the citadel had been carved from the mountainside and dipped down into the earth in a series of tunnels. Finrod ruled as King of Nargothrond and had assigned Angrod and Aegnor to govern a stronghold in Dorthonion some three leagues to the northeast. Orithil remained in Nargothrond and Aegnor visited her as often as his obligations would permit. _

_ No one knew of their engagement (save for Amarië who was far away in Valinor). Aegnor decided it was best they keep their vows a secret until the perfect time presented itself. Their shared secret was another bond between them. One only they were privy to. Orithil had thought it romantic at first. However, war had soon broken out. During times of war, they were forbidden by custom to marry. Another excuse to postpone the announcement. _

_ Now, there was temporary peace in the land. Morgoth's terror was subdued and the Dark Lord remained dormant in Angband. The cities and villages of elves and men thrived. _

" _Temporary peace is not victory, mime mel. What are a few more years of waiting to us—we have all the time in the world," Aegnor had lectured her._

_ She looked at the silver ring on her finger. She was beginning to resent the piece of jewelry. The golden flower in its center mocked her. _

_ Orithil knew something had changed in her love. Aegnor was transformed. He grew impatient. He was not pleased by this peace. He longed for battle where he could prove his valor. The last time he visited Nargothrond, she had fought with him. He had been toying with the notion of raiding Angband; a premeditated strike against the Dark Lord. Finrod had been present at the discussion and chided Aegnor for his recklessness pointing out that the elven numbers were too small to launch such an attack. Aegnor and the King had exchanged words; Aegnor had called Finrod a coward, and Finrod had called Aegnor a fool. When Finrod had left to see to other business, Orithil had attempted to make her betrothed see reason but he wouldn't listen. He railed against her saying she no longer believed in him, in his quest. _

_ Aegnor wanted glory. Orithil wanted him to remain safe. _

_ Her thoughts had recently grown dark. Amarië's words played on a loop in her mind. _

" _I have foretold the deaths of the brothers of Finarfin. All of them shall perish under the wrath of Morgoth…"_

_ That was another truth that she kept hidden all these years. Orithil had spoken to no one about what her sister had foreseen. Since her departure from Valinor, she had kept her Amarië's words a secret. If she did not say them aloud, perhaps they would never come true. Not even Finrod knew of her sister's prediction. He believed her sister remained in Valinor to abide by their parents' order. Orithil had promoted this falsehood. At this moment, when she needed someone to confide in, she realized that the only one who she could really turn to was the King of Nargothrond himself. Finrod was the fairest and wisest elf she knew. He would be disappointed in her falsehood, but he would not hold the lie against her or Aegnor. _

_ Orithil had to speak to the King. _

_ She left her chamber and meandered the sloping hallways of the fortress until she came to the King's study. The door to the study was ajar. She saw the steward standing beside the King enthroned at his regal desk. The steward's voice fell silent as she entered the study. She felt as if she had just walked in on a very serious conversation. _

" _I'm sorry for interrupting, your grace, but I wished to speak with you on an important matter…"_

_ She bobbed a curtsey as her voice tapered off as Finrod looked up at her. He was surprised by her appearance. She saw a missive in his hand and recognized the writing as Aegnor's. Immediately, her heart sank, "What news is there from Dorthonion?" _

_ The King dismissed the steward instructing him to shut the door. Finrod stood from his desk and she waited for him to tell her of whatever calamity had no doubt befallen her love. _

" _Prince Aegnor writes to send word he is coming to visit."_

_ Orithil was relieved. Finrod motioned for her to sit and she took the proffered chair. _

" _He brings with him a representative from Ladros; Andreth of House Bëor. You are familiar with the Lord of Ladros' daughter?"_

_ Absently, she nodded her head confused. Andreth of House Bëor. The last time Orithil had seen her she had been a child. A child fostered by her kinswoman, Adanel. Adanel had succumbed to the sweating sickness and Andreth had returned to her father's seat in Ladros. That had been nearly thirty years ago. Andreth would be a woman grown by now. _

" _It seems this Andreth acts as ambassador for her father. Aegnor wishes to present her to me. He writes that she is the most beautiful and cleverest of mortals and has grown quite taken with her."_

_ The most beautiful and cleverest of mortals. Her ears had deceived her. Finrod could not have possible said those words. Orithil heard a ringing in her ears like the sound of a thousand bells chiming at the same time. She closed her eyes and willed the noise away, but it persisted. She attempted to clarify, "Taken, your grace? What do you mean by Aegnor is taken with her?" _

_ A deep sigh escaped the King. Finrod put a hand to the bridge of his nose and pinched it. A frown marred his face as he looked at her, "I am sorry, Orithil. You know better than I, my brother's whims are unpredictable and careless. He writes of his affection for this mortal woman. I only told you this now in the hopes to spare you from any shock at their arrival in Nargothrond. I am aware that you and my brother were once affectionate." _

_ Orithil unconsciously shook her head, "This cannot be possible." _

_ She willed herself awake because this was all a dream. This had to be a dream. Aegnor loved her. He would never give her up for someone else. Let alone a mortal woman. _

_ Without thinking, she whispered, "Aegnor and I have an understanding." _

_ A beat past before she realized the words she had said aloud. Her eyes went wide. Quickly, she slipped Aegnor's ring from her finger and held it tightly in her fist which she hid beneath the long sleeve of her gown. She prayed Finrod had not noticed it. _

" _An understanding?" The King repeated. "Aegnor has never spoken of any understanding between the two of you. Have you and Aegnor exchanged vows without my knowledge?"_

_ His voice was tinged with anger. She met his eyes. There was a flash of fury in the King's gaze that Orithil had never witnessed. She realized he was not the same Finrod who she had known as a young elfling. Standing before her was a different Finrod—Finrod, the King of Nargothrond. He was no longer the same elf who had wooed her sister, Amarië, with flowery songs and poems. He now bore the tremendous weight of responsibility that came with sovereignty. She was but a subject in his kingdom. Of course, he would be livid if he were to discover the truth about her secret engagement. His blessing was needed for such a union. What she and Aegnor had done, what they had kept hidden, would be considered a betrayal. _

_ Stifling the panic brimming inside, Orithil tried to speak as evenly as possible, "Not vows, per se, your grace. There was just a mutual fondness between us which I  _ **_ assumed _ ** _ would lead to an engagement. The formal words were never spoken." _

_ For a moment, it seemed the King would press her on the subject, but instead the tension in the air fizzled. Orithil exhaled, her eyes fluttering in relief. Finrod clasped his hands behind his back and paced in front of her chair. _

" _Again, I apologize if my brother misled you. He is aware of our customs—we are forbidden from marrying during times of war. You are of noble character, worthy of his hand, of course. Nonetheless, his actions were dishonorable if they led you to believe any idea of marriage possible at this time."_

_ The King carried on talking, but Orithil could not focus on what he said. The ringing in her ears was reaching a crescendo until her head throbbed. She felt dizzy. The room was spinning. Anguish began creeping into the cracks of her crumbling poise. She would not fall to pieces in front of Finrod. She steeled her resolve and willed away any sign of torment that currently wracked her heart. If she could just make it to her bedroom, then she would be free to fall to pieces. _

_ A knock on the door signaled the steward's return. He was here to discuss some new business with the King; a trail of advisors followed in his wake. Orithil stood knowing she was effectively dismissed. Her body was numb. Her legs instinctively carried her to the door. As she reached the door of the study, Finrod's voice addressed her, "I almost forgot. When you first arrived, you said you wanted to speak with me on an important matter." _

" _It was nothing, your grace. Nothing at all."_

* * *

The lanterns of the healing wing burned brightly as Rána prepared bandages. She did not know what sort of injuries to expect; Elrohir had been lacking in specifics. Therefore, she was quickly working to prepare anything she believed could help. Meyrav worked beside her. Her assistant diligently taking her cues wordlessly and without question. Master Tate slept peacefully in his cot. Rána had checked on him when she had first entered the wing. His lungs sounded better, but he still had fluid that hindered his breathing. She would tend to him, but first she would see to the injured warden.

Lord Elrond swept into the healing wing followed by a blonde elf with grey eyes. The blonde elf's face and cloak were smeared with blood and dirt. He did not seem to be injured, instead he carried the injured warden who was crying out from pain.

"Set him here gently," Rána pointed to the cot across from Master Tate.

The blonde elf gently deposited the injured warden on the cushion.

"He was struck by the hobgoblin's warhammer. It was laced with orc poison," the blonde elf explained. Rána met his grey eyes. A feeling of familiarity struck her. She knew this elf. They had met previously. Where exactly she had met him, Rána could not remember.

"Will he be alright?" the blonde elf queried. Rána snapped back to attention. She could not answer the question blonde elf asked until she knew the full extent of the damage the warden sustained.

"I need bandages, hot water, and the athelas salve" Rána informed Meyrav. Her assistant flittered away to fetch the supplies.

Taking a calming breath, Rána assessed the injured warden. She took a knife from her pocket and used it to cut away his tunic so she could view the lesion. Black blood coated her fingertips. She took a proffered rag from Meyrav and dabbed at the warhammer's strike. The cut was not deep. An inch or two further and the warden's soul would have departed for the Halls of Mandor. The poison was of greatest concern. It corrupted the skin around his shoulder. She looked at the condition of the elf's arm and neck.

"The warden will live. The poison has yet to spread," she said comfortingly.

Lord Elrond appeared reassured, but the blonde elf's dark brows remained furrowed in concern.

Methodically, Rána moved her hands over the warden's wound chanting under her breath. The black blood ceased to run. The poison still needed to be extracted from the elf's bloodstream, or else it would corrupt his heart. Meyrav handed her the athelas salve.

"Hold him down," she directed at her audience. "This will cause him much pain."

Lord Elrond and Meyrav took the warden's legs, while the blonde elf held the warden's head.

Rána chanted while she took a large glob of the athelas salve and pushed it into the warden's wound. The warden's whole body seized. His eyes clamped shut. She felt the poison move under her fingers and she drew it to the surface so that it could be neutralized by the athelas salve. The evil which laced the poison clouded her mind. Dark voices filled her head. With all her strength, she banished the poison's evil from the world. It would have no power anymore.

The warden gave a final grunt of agony then collapsed under her hands. Meyrav brought a cup of broth to his lips, and the warden drank greedily from it. His eyes fluttered shut and he fell into a stupor. The broth was laced with a sleeping drought she used to encourage an elf's natural healing process. She handed the warden's ruined tunic and soiled cloth to Meyrav who went away to burn them.

"Is he healed?" Elrond ventured. Rána nodded as she dressed the warden's shoulder with clean bandages. This warden was young and extremely fit. He would heal as quickly as he was injured.

"The poison is gone from his body. A day's rest and he will be back to fighting shape."

Elrond seemed pleased with her prognosis. Rána watched the blonde elf gaze down fondly at the sleeping warden. He glanced up at Rána and she met his grey gaze again.

Where had she seen those eyes? The blonde elf gave no indication that he remembered her. She didn't even his know his name. Rána frowned. Perhaps, she was just imagining things.

"Come Haldir, let us leave and rejoin the others," the Lord of Rivendell clapped the blonde elf on the back.

_ Haldir _ , Rána knew the name. Haldir, Chief Marchwarden of Lothlórien. She had heard Lady Celebrían speak of him. He had trained in Rivendell when she had lived in Lórien. Then, when Rána had come to Rivendell, he had gone off to Mirkwood before pledging himself to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. She could not recall ever meeting him face to face. Why were his eyes so familiar?

"Rána, Lady Galadriel expects a visit from you in the morning," Elrond patted her on the back and made for the door. "She knew better than to try and pull you away from the healing wing when you had patients."

The Lord of Rivendell left. Haldir went to follow him, but Rana grabbed him before he could go. She could tell his arm was muscular beneath the soft tunic under her fingers. He curiously stared down at her hand grasping his arm. She realized her action and instantly let go.

Hesitating, she explained, "Are you in need of anything, Marchwarden? There is blood on your cloak."

His face was impassive as he shook his head, "No, this blood belongs to the hobogoblin. I am fine, but I shall return to check on my brother once I have ensured the rest of my wardens are settled. _Amin diola lle ten' savien amin toror', amin naa naute a' lle._ "

Haldir bowed his head towards her with his arm across his chest. A sign of respect.

" _Ta naa amin akh_ , _Haldir en' Lórien,_ " Rána bowed her head in acceptance and watched him leave.

A blush crept over her cheeks as she recalled the feeling of his muscles beneath her grip. She shook her head and returned to her patients.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback and support! I cherish your comments. Also, I hope everyone is remaining safe during these difficult times.
> 
> Mime mel = "My love" in Quenya
> 
> Amin diola lle ten' savien amin toror', amin naa naute a' lle = "Thank you for saving my brother, I am obliged to you" in Sindarin.
> 
> Ta naa amin akh, Haldir en' Lorien = "It is my duty, Haldir of Lórien" in Sindarin.
> 
> Also, I just want to point out that the men of Beleraind aged differently than the average man in the Third Age. They could live to be over a hundred. So, when I say that Andreth was nearly thirty when she met Aegnor, she would still be considered a very young woman by both elf and mortal standards. Just a little something to mull over.
> 
> Please like and review!


	5. Chapter 5

Haldir took the goblet of wine Elrond offered him. The smell of it piqued his senses and he reveled in the taste of the vintage. He had been on his way to the healing wing to check on Rúmil when Lord Elrond had invited him to his library. Haldir was not one to refuse the Lord of Rivendell, his old friend and comrade. With his wardens comfortably settled in the guest quarters, and his lieges busy with their daughter, Haldir was free to enjoy the pleasures of wine and conversation.

“Three elflings is a blessing from the Valar. I congratulate you, my lord,” he raised his glass and toasted Elrond.

The elves drank deeply. 

Lady Celebrían was pregnant once more. It now made sense why the Lady of Light had insisted on coming to Rivendell to see her daughter. It was a joyous occasion to be sure.

“Thank you, _nin mellon_ , I am most honored by this blessing. I know my wife is comforted by the presence of her parents,” Elrond spoke. “Though I am sorry the safety of your wardens was put at risk by the journey.”

He waved away the Lord of Rivendell’s concern. Like his fellow wardens, Haldir had pledged his fealty to the Lady of Light. Elrond knew better than most that duty came before all else.

Their conversation turned from Lady Celebrían’s pregnancy to the orc attack. Elrond had ordered a fleet of Rivendell’s riders to be deployed in the morning to patrol the borderlands. Any further orc parties would be destroyed before further harm could befall anyone else. Though the great evil of Middle Earth had been defeated, shadows lingered, and it was their duty to be prepared.

Haldir listened to Elrond’s plans, but his attention turned elsewhere. 

It was the healer who occupied the forefront of his mind—Rána of the Vanyar. It had been centuries since Haldir had last set eyes on her. 

A gleaming light in a field of death and destruction. 

With an army of healers at her side, she had walked the blackened fields of the Last Alliance healing all she could reach including himself. The sword of a Ringwraith had pierced Haldir’s thigh and left him slowly dying in the mud of the battlefield. Darkness had closed in around him, but unexpectedly she had appeared and brought him back from the brink. He remembered gazing up at her in the moment as his life hung by a thread. In his delirium, he had believed her to be the incarnation of Estë come to vanquish the weariness from his body. 

When Haldir had reawakened, he had been on a litter headed back to Lórien. Rána had departed as part of Lady Galadriel’s retinue to Rivendell. Their paths had never crossed since that day, but now they were once more in the same place.

He had been flabbergasted at her appearance in the healing wing—the High Healer of Rivendell. She swept to action to save his brother much like she had saved him on the battlefield. 

Haldir itched to see her once more.

Standing abruptly, he excused himself from Elrond’s library citing his desire to check on Rúmil which was only half true. Though he wanted to ensure his brother’s wellbeing, he wished to speak with Rána again and in private. If the Lord of Rivendell was unconvinced by his excuse, Elrond said nothing and allowed Haldir to leave. Haldir hated to deceive his old friend, but he felt his presence drawn elsewhere.

Rivendell was silent as most of its occupants rested. Elves did not need sleep but, in times of peace, it was a luxury to savor the tranquil silence of night and shut one’s eyes for a rest.

Haldir listened to the roar of the waterfalls as he crossed the bridge into the healing wing. He stealthily slipped in to the room that housed his brother. There was no sign of Rána. He tried not to be too disappointed. Moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating Rúmil who slumbered in his bed. He gazed down on his younger brother and was comforted by the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest. He lay a hand on Rúmil’s shoulder in a sign of brotherly affection.

“You needn’t worry. His wound already begins to close,” a voice announced from the darkness.

Haldir swung around astonished that he had not noticed Rána before now. She sat on a stool on the other side of the room. Half of her face was shadowed in darkness while the other half was visible in the moonlight. In the cot beside her chair lay a child. 

“My brother lives because of your gift, my lady,” Haldir complimented. 

The healer shook her head and her eyes bore into his, “It is the Valar that decides life or death, Marchwarden, not I.”

Her serious tone held a hint of a challenge which intrigued Haldir.

“Surely it is the Valar who granted your gift,” he countered. 

Rána went on to reply, but the boy in the cot awoke and began to cough catching both elves’ attentions. The boy’s body shook with each wheezing breath. He watched in fascination as Rána pulled the covers down revealing bandages across his chest. A faint scent of corn mint hung in the air. Her palm came to rest on him. She whispered something as her fingers glowed. The boy’s coughing ceased. He fell back asleep as she placed the sheets back over his chest. 

“A gift from the Valar indeed,” Haldir asserted. 

Rána met his gaze once more. The ghost of a smile on her lips. 

She rose from her seated position and walked towards him until they met in the middle of the healing wing. This afforded him a better opportunity to study her as she was now fully illuminated by the moonlight. 

All those years ago, even when she had been covered in the blood and sweat of others, Rána had been splendid. Now, as she stood before him, Haldir could see that she was nothing short of a vision. In the dark, her eyes were black, but he knew in the light of day they would glow like amber. She was carved from marble; pale skin, elongated neck, and a proud chin. Her sharp cheekbones were painted rosy with the faintest of blush. He glanced down at her full lips and was sure that they would be as soft as a flower petal. 

He was overcome with the base urge to claim her mouth. He wanted to grab her by the back of the neck and pull her towards him and not be parted from her until his need was satisfied. It surprised him, this urge. He had been around many elven maidens and never had he reacted so strongly. 

Rána of the Vanyar awoke in him a longing deep within his core.

Haldir realized she was assessing him too. Her curious gaze raked over him and he had to keep himself from preening like a fool. She was one of the few Vanyar to choose exile traveling with the first elven settlers of Middle Earth. There was wisdom and experience in her fine eyes, and something else that Haldir could not place.

“We have met before, Haldir of Lórien, but where I do not know…” she whispered aloud. Her brow furrowed and he could see her combing through her memories for an answer.

So, she did remember him. Just not the circumstances surrounding their first meeting. A part of him was pleased he had made an impression on her. Even if the last time she had seen him, he was sprawled out on the ground beaten and bloodied. 

The question remained whether to fill her in on the details of their encounter. The polite thing to do would be to tell her. However, it seemed more exhilarating to let her figure it out on her own. Besides, he wanted a reason for them to speak again. The company from Lothlórien would remain in Rivendell for some time. 

He decided in that moment he would spend as much of his time here getting to know the intriguing healer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kuddos, bookmarks, and comments! I appreciate them so much. As always, I hope everyone is staying safe during these troubling times.
> 
> "Nin mellon" = "My friend" in Sindarin
> 
> This story is taking place between a year before Arwen's birth in T.A. 241. The past recollections (up until now) take place between the years of F.A. 338 and F.A. 455.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose petals floated on the surface of the water. Their perfume lingered in the air mixing with the oils and salts she had poured into the bath tub.

Rána sat with her back against the warm stone of the tub. Her knees were pressed to her chest.

After her conversation with Haldir, she had watched over Master Tate and the injured warden, Rumil, for the rest of the evening until Meyrav relieved her in the morning. 

From the healing wing, she had gone to find Lady Galadriel in her rooms. 

While most were intimidated by the Lady of Light, Rána found her presence comforting.

Once, when she had felt like giving up, Lady Galadriel had helped her begin anew. She felt forever indebted to the great lady. Her guidance had led her on the path she walked today.

The two had spoken about the past, but also about the future. Lady Galadriel was concerned for her daughter. She knew pregnancy took a lasting toll on Celebrían’s spirit. The Lady of Rivendell was delicate by nature. Where most elleth shone brightly while carrying a new life inside them, Celebrían‘s light seemed to dim. It was good that Galadriel was by Celebrían’s side.

No amount of elixirs or enchantments Rána devised could equal the strength of a mother’s love for her child.

Tonight, there would be a feast in honor of the Lothlórien visitors. Lord Elrond was planning on announcing Lady Celebrían’s pregnancy at the banquet. There would be a plethora of food, music, dancing. The excitement in Rivendell was palpable.

Even she felt herself brimming with anticipation. 

Hugging her knees to her chest, she remembered the feeling of Haldir’s muscular arm in her hand. She sunk deeper into the bath water; hiding her head in embarrassment. Her body had acted of its own accord, drawn to him instinctively like a moth to a burning candle. 

She could not shake the feeling that they had met before. It was true that she had lived a long time and seen many faces, but it was not like her to forget especially when the elf in question was the Chief Marchwarden of Lórien. He was also very handsome. She could see past his stern brow and militaristic manner. There was something playful in his gaze. His charcoal eyes were striking. They could be any elleth’s undoing.

It scared her how attracted she was to him.

Unlike most unmarried elves, Rána knew firsthand about the deeper intimacies of love. She remembered how it felt when an elf’s hands were on her body; touching her, teasing her. The unimaginable bliss one could reach in the arms of a lover. 

She had spent so many years keeping those memories at bay. Locking them in a box and burying it deep within her soul. 

In just a day’s time, those emotions were rising back to the surface. 

It was all because of the Marchwarden.

* * *

 _Orithil tucked away some of Adanel’s old recipes on herbal remedies; placing the delicate papers in between her folded gowns._

_It was morning. The quiet in the fortress was comforting. She would slip away undetected with the other travelers to Doriath._

_At her request, Finrod had secured her a position as one of his sister’s handmaids._

_Lady Galadriel currently resided in Doriath with her husband, Lord Celeborn, as guests of King Thingol. Orithil would travel with several couriers to Doriath and reside there indefinitely. She had tried to make some excuse about her reason for leaving, but Finrod knew the real reason why she left._

_The truth hung above her head like a banner._

_Her chamber door opened and she thought it was one of her fellow travelers come to fetch her._

_She nearly dropped the delicate necklace in her hand when Aegnor’s warm voice addressed her._

_“It’s true then, you are leaving for Doriath?”_

_Orithil did not answer her former betrothed. Instead, she set the necklace down. She ignored the elf behind her hoping he would just leave her alone. She took stock of her possessions making sure that nothing important would be left behind._

_“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”_

_Aegnor’s tone was accusatory, and he sounded hurt as if she had betrayed him._

_Orithil tried to stifle the anger bubbling to the surface but could not help slamming her valise shut in frustration. She finally faced Aegnor, her hands clenched, “Finrod would have told you eventually. He is a capable messenger for disappointing news.”_

_Bitterness dripped off her every word._

_Aegnor frowned, “He was not supposed to tell you. I was going to let you know—”_

_“You were bringing **her** here without telling me. At least the King had the decency to warn me before I was confronted with the sight of you two together. Can you imagine thinking that you are engaged to an elf, that you have shared his bed and have his heart, only to find he is leaving you for a mortal woman?”_

_“Mime mel—” Aegnor began._

_Orithil put her hand up to stop him. She would not let him call her by the pet name. She was not “his love” anymore._

_Resolutely, she picked up the soft leather strap of her traveling bag and made for the door. Aegnor blocked her path with his body, his imposing figure looming above her. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, “I don’t want any explanation. Just let me go, Aegnor, I am going to be late.”_

_He placed his hands on her shoulders. His grip was a vice, yet she tried to pull away from him. He brought her into a smothering embrace; hugging her even as she began to lash out at him in frustration. Her free hand beat against his chest; the blows did little to sway him. She felt weak. Tears formed in her eyes and blurred her vision._

_For days, she had been avoiding him for this precise reason. She did not want to show him that she cared about him still._

_She did not want his pity._

_After a few minutes, she stilled in his arms when her fit subsided._

_The hour of her departure approached, and she needed to go. There was something she needed to ask before she could leave._

_“Did you ever really love me?”_

_There was silence._

_Aegnor’s hand stroked her back. The gesture was comforting in a familiar way. She recalled all those times she would lie on his bare chest in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Her ear pressed flat to listen to his heartbeat. His hand ghosting over her naked spine. The memory made her heart ache. It had been a mistake to lay with an elf who was not her husband, but it had felt so right in the moment._

_She almost started crying again as his chin nuzzled the top of her head._

_“Yes, I loved you for many years,” Aegnor whispered into her hair. “I do not know when or why I stopped loving you. I prayed my feelings would change. Then, I met Andreth and it only became more complicated. I am sorry, Orithil. I am truly sorry.”  
_

_It was what she needed to hear. His words gutted her, nonetheless._

_Orithil allowed herself a moment more in his arms savoring the feeling of his body against hers. Then, she extricated herself and wiped away the tears from her face. She carefully smoothed her cloak over her shoulder where it had gotten crumpled._

_With a deep breath, she pulled the silver engagement ring off her finger. She studied the golden laurinquë blossom sitting in the center of the ring before offering it to Aegnor._

_For a moment, it looked like he would refuse to take it. She waited with her arm outstretched. A deep sigh escaped his lips. He took the engagement ring. His fingers brushed her own._

_There it was all over now. The final vestige of their engagement undone._

_This was for the best, she reminded herself._

_It was a bandage that had to be pulled all at once or else the pain would linger._

_“I guess this is good bye,” he said._

_Orithil nodded and walked past Aegnor without a backwards glance. She knew if she lingered a moment longer, she would be unable to leave._

* * *

When the skin on her arms began to prune, Rána stood from the tub and wrapped herself in a linen robe. The fabric clung to her. 

She sat before her vanity mirror and began to brush through her damp hair; detangling the knots in it until it was a smooth sheet that fell to the small of her back. Braiding half her hair back in an intricate crown, she placed several golden hair combs along her temples. The rest of her hair fell freely around her shoulders.

The dress she had chosen for tonight consisted of a blush colored kirtle of translucent silk over a cream chemise. It had a modest square neckline to balance out the overall clinginess of the gown. Pale elanor flowers were embroidered around the shoulders and near the crook of the arm where the sleeves of the kirtle billowed down to the floor. 

Rána dressed slowly savoring the feeling of silk on her skin.

As a healer, it didn’t make sense to wear delicate dresses. Her daily attire consisted of simple cloth and velvet gowns. She had learned her lesson the hard way; grimacing at the memory of one her favorite gowns covered in the blood of a man attacked by an orc.

The finishing touch was some perfume to her collarbone and wrists; a subtle hint of elder flower and sage. Her latest creation. Perfumery was a frivolous pursuit, but many Rivendell elleths came to her to devise a signature scent for their own toilette.

When she was done, Rána gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The courtly gown and ornate styled hairdo appeared foreign to her eyes. She looked like her old self. The one she had abandoned so many years ago.

She was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to run away. Where she would go, she did not know, but it was a self-preservation method she had developed. She prided herself on her fight or flight instinct. It had proved useful in the past.

A knock came from her front door and she tore her eyes from the mirror. No doubt it was Elladan or Elrohir come to escort her to the reception. 

Rána took a steadying breath and went to answer her caller. 

The festivities were about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Things are moving along! Starting to get into the meat into the story. I know it may not be obvious, but I'm a big Andreth/Aegnor fan. I love their story. I just know that their love was doomed from the beginning. 
> 
> Also, if any of you are interested, I made inspiration boards on Pinterest. I gather images when I'm planning/writing to help me get a visual about a scene/costume/aesthetic. There are seperate Rána/Haldir boards, but also boards about other characters from the story (including all you Andreth/Aegnor fans)! 
> 
> You can find my account here: https://www.pinterest.com/writerjuliabrownen/
> 
> As always, please leave kuddos and comments. Stay safe!


	7. Chapter 7

Music drifted over the rising clamor of the dining hall. A quartet of harpists played softly in the corner as people mingled.

Haldir stalked about the outer edges of the party like he was on patrol. His calculated gaze scanned the crowd for a certain healer. 

Not that he would admit it to anyone, but he had spent most of the day trying to coax information about Rána from the Rivendell elves. His subtle prying had proved somewhat unsuccessful and only solidified the information he already knew. High Healer of Rivendell, close confidant to Lady Celebrían, and well-spoken of by all those who knew her, Rána was such a fixture in the colony that she seemingly went unnoticed by many. Occasionally, she traveled to Bree to teach lessons on midwifery and basic healing. She assisted Lord Elrond in caring for the Rangers’ sons. But, she kept to herself for the most part and had no family in Middle Earth. 

Rána of the Vanyar, she was an enigma which fascinated him.

The feast had yet to commence, so guests were still slowly arriving. 

All of Rivendell seemed to be present along with the contingent from Lórien. First, there would a dinner. Then, there would be dancing. Revels were expected to happen late into the night; a true celebration of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían’s joy.

His wardens were happily mingling with some pretty Rivendell elves. He spotted his brother Rúmil enthralled by the assistant healer, Meyrav. Rúmil attempted to look gallant while nursing a shoulder sling. He had been released from the healing wing for the feast, but dancing was off the table. He would have to make do with wooing Meyrav with his words. Haldir pitied the elleth. His other brother, Orophin, was the family poet; but, Orophin had remained behind in Lothlórien on patrol.

At least his brother was enjoying himself. Haldir could not say the same. The dining hall was nearly at capacity, and there was still no sighting of Rána. 

Haldir took a glass of wine from an elf carrying a tray and distractedly sipped it. He made his way to his seat at the front of the room where he had been awarded a seat of honor beside Lord Celeborn. It was at that moment he spotted a flash of glittering gold and pink out of the corner of his eye. 

There was Rána; shining hair and noble demeanor wrapped in a gauzy confection of silk. Despite the beauteous presence of Lady Galadriel and Lady Celebrían, Rána, in his opinion, was the most alluring elf in the room. There was an assurance in her manners which was attractive. An innate poise and grace bred into her bones like all elves belonging to the Vanyar; the most beloved children of Manwё. He also detected a passion in her that was rare. There was a strength within her that had helped her survive millennia after millennia.

A sly smile crept over his face. He would endeavor to be in her company before the evening was over. A dance, perhaps? He was an expert dancer and it would grant him a chance to be close to her. 

However, his sudden joy faded when he saw her being escorted to her seat by one of Lord Elrond’s sons. Elrohir, if he remembered the elf’s name correctly. The twins were hard to distinguish. They were so alike in their manners and Haldir had last seen them when they had been babes.

The elf’s name did not matter. His concern was rooted in the fact that the young lordling was practically glued to Rána’s side. 

Haldir watched as Rána’s chair was pulled out for her by her escort. She dipped her head in thanks as Elrohir whispered something in her ear which caused her to snort and roll her eyes. 

Despite Rána’s exasperated reaction, the intimacy between the two elves was evident. 

It shouldn’t surprise him. Elrohir was one of Lord Elrond’s sons. Rána was a distinguished elf of the Vanyar. It made sense they would be courting each other; beauty and position, a perfect match.

The pragmatism did little to extinguish the growing pangs of jealousy building inside of Haldir.

What possible interest could she have in a silly youth like Elrohir? Haldir nearly broke the delicate stem of the wine glass as he slammed it down on the table. Rapidly, his interest in the feast waned. He wondered if he could make some excuse to return to his rooms. 

Lord Celeborn approached him and began to engage him in conversation effectively shutting down his opportunity to leave. He would have to suffer through the meal and duck out when the dancing began.

As the courses were served, he picked at the food on his plate instead partaking in cup after cup of wine. Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond talked of the reports from the riders who had patrolled the borders earlier today. There was no sign of orcs or goblins. The orc party they had encountered in the High Pass was likely a fluke, but Lord Elrond had dispatched scouts to comb the land as far as the ruins of Amon Sûl. 

As he listened to the elven lords, Haldir attempted to crane his neck to see Rána. From his seated position, he could only catch the faintest glimpse of her as she sat at the opposite end of the dining table. He could see she was laughing; her hand clutching her chest, as her companion pantomimed like a buffoon. 

“Your grandson seems quite taken with Rána of the Vanyar,” Haldir grumbled into his wine goblet. 

Lord Celeborn peered down the table at the scene. He shrugged his shoulders in his aloof manner, “She is quite charming and quick-witted. She would make a worthy companion; steer young Elrohir away from youthful imprudence. An admirable match if anything comes of it.”

Elrohir, at least he had guessed the lord’s name correctly if he had been blind to everything else. Lord Celeborn’s remarks did little to diminish Haldir’s growing resentment of the elf. 

Thankfully, blessed be the Valar, Lord Elrond stood, and the noise, including Rána’s laughter, died down. 

The Lord of Rivendell lifted his cup and addressed the assembly, “Before the dancing begins, I wished to say a few words. I am sure you all are curious about why our Lórien brethren are visiting. By the Valar’s blessing, I am pleased to announce that Lady Celebrían is expecting another child.”

Lady Celebrían stood by her husband’s side, her hand shyly on her stomach. At the news, the guests began to clap. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn exchanged a proud glance, while Rána was clapping and smiling with Elrohir. Many guests began to clamor forward to offer blessings to their Lord and Lady. 

The mood in the banquet hall was jovial. It should have lifted his spirits, yet Haldir remained stewing in his displeasure. 

Dinner continued until the plates and cups were taken away to be cleaned. 

When elves began to depart for the hanging gardens, where the dancing would occur, Haldir attempted his escape. He bid a good evening to his hosts and to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel who wished him a good night. 

Automatically, as he rose from his chair, Haldir tried to locate Rána. Her spot at the table was empty. Elrohir had also disappeared. 

Haldir had to stop himself from growling as he stalked to the exit. 

“Whatever has put you in such a blackened mood?” Haldir heard Rúmil ask him as he passed by. “It looks like an orc spit into your salad.”

In response, Haldir snarled at his brother. Rúmil blanched and fell silent. There was a bottleneck forming at the exit which slowed Haldir’s escape. Rúmil remained silently by Haldir's side as he descended the staircase from the banquet hall. Haldir clutched the bannister nearly breaking the marble with his grip. 

Every now and then a warden would attempt to converse with him, but they stopped short as soon as they got a good look at his face. They knew better than to mess with their commander when he was in a foul mood.

Suddenly, an elf blocked his path. Haldir stopped abruptly. To his eternal chagrin, he realized he was standing before the elleth who had plagued his thoughts all evening. 

“Good evening, Haldir, Rúmil,” Rána said with a smile. She was even more radiant up close. Her amber eyes flashed, “I see you are headed for the hanging gardens to join the dancing.”

“I am headed to my rooms,” Haldir responded dismissively. 

Rána’s face fell slightly while Rúmil side-eyed him curiously. 

He knew better than to react so hastily, but the copious wine in his system fueled his ire. Best to get away from this situation as painlessly as possible.

“Oh, that is disappointing, the hanging gardens are beautiful at night and I was curious to see if you were a good dancer.”

There was a hint of teasing in Rána’s voice. At the beginning of the night it would have pleased him, but right now he was irritable. Haldir had not pegged Rána as a flirt, but he knew many ladies in her position liked to lead elves on for sport.

Before he could respond to her, Haldir felt Rúmil clasp him on the back with his untethered hand. His brother cut in, “He is an excellent dancer—the best in Lórien! Come Haldir, the least you owe this gracious elleth is a dance. She did save my life after all.”

If he had his sword, Haldir would have struck Rúmil down right there on the staircase. Instead, he would have to wait to seek his retribution. A year posted at the bleakest watch point along the southern border of Lothlórien. That would be a start. 

It would be increasingly awkward if he refused. His pride forced him to offer his arm to her, “Would you care to dance?” 

Rána attempted to hide her own embarrassment at his forced show of appreciation as she took his arm. Rúmil winked at Haldir knowingly before scampering off; leaving Haldir alone to escort Rána towards the dancing. 

A month acting as target practice for the new recruits. 

Yes, Haldir would ensure that Rúmil’s punishment would be slow and miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kudos, review, and hit that bookmark button! Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy an extra-long chapter after this brief absence. I'm so thankful for your appreciation and reviews of this story!

The hanging gardens were a series of tiered platforms carved out of the cliffs of a waterfall. Lush vines of greenery twisted up marble columns supporting the platforms. Flowers of varying shapes and hues lined the perimeters. A multitude of tapers and candles illuminated the pathway to the dance floor.

Rána loved the hanging gardens at night when the blossoms shone with the glow of torches and starlight. 

Her enjoyment of the gardens was dampened by the severe elf by her side. Haldir stoically led her through the throngs of guests towards the dance floor. She had a sneaking suspicion the Marchwarden was upset with her. If not for Rumil’s interjection, she was sure he would have refused her a dance. 

Honestly, Rána could not fathom a reason why Haldir would be angry. He seemed so congenial in the healing wing. Perhaps, her first impression of him was incorrect. Even after a life as long as hers, she wasn’t the best at reading people. Her heart always reacted faster than her brain did; love always conquered logic in her case. _One_ _dance_ _would_ _not_ _kill_ _her_. If Haldir was truly as brooding as he appeared, she would easily be able to put aside the feelings which had plagued her for the past day. 

Her partner led her to an empty spot on the dance floor. Some of the elven maidens cast her an envious glance. Rána glanced up at Haldir’s stoic face for any sign of emotion. His grey eyes were impassive.

A sigh escaped her lips, but the sound was drowned out by the music which began to play. 

They took their positions. Haldir placed both hands at her waist. She put her hands on his shoulders. Both avoided the other’s gaze. 

Rána could feel a blush heating her cheeks. Good thing her partner refused to look at her. 

Soon, they began to move to the quick melody. 

Rúmil had not been lying, Rána admitted: Haldir was an expert dancer. 

It had been a while since she had danced, but her partner firmly guided her through the footwork. The dance was a series of twirls and lifts. Her hair flowed freely down her back as she spun in his grip. When they stepped into a lift, his grasp on her waist became firm; fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. Why had she not worn more layers of cloth? The fabric of her gown was so flimsy. 

Rána chanced a quick glance at his face only to find his eyes stared straight past her. Frustration was forming in her chest. Whatever she may, or may not, have done did not excuse such blatant rudeness.

The music and merriment of the couples around them filled the uncomfortable void between them. She spotted Lord Elrond dancing with Lady Galadriel while Lord Celeborn guided his daughter through the steps. All seemed to be enjoying themselves save for her and Haldir.

When the song came to an end, the Marchwarden promptly let her go. He curtly bowed and moved to leave. 

Fueled by her simmering indignation, Rána grabbed his arm to stop him, “I believe I have somehow offended you, Haldir of Lórien. However, whatever I may have done to offend you does not excuse your behavior towards me.”

A few of the fellow dancers on the floor glanced at the pair with raised eyebrows. 

Without answering her, the Marchwarden dragged her away past the throng of dancers. Rána went without complaint; despite her growing anger, a gnawing curiosity ate away at her. Perhaps, he would even gift her with an explanation.  
  


The two of them ascended up a level of the hanging gardens until they were a level above the dance floor; secluded from the rest of the party guests. 

Mist hit Rána’s face as a breeze swept through the air. This level was nearer the waterfall. The white marble railing was damp as Rána gripped it; waiting for Haldir to say something. 

The Marchwarden seemed to be battling with himself. 

When he finally spoke, his tone was cold, “I know that I am not as engaging a partner as Lord Elrond’s son. You can imagine my surprise when I became aware of your _relationship_ with Lord Elrohir.”

A beat passed as she processed his words.

Sudden realization hit her. Haldir must have seen her with Elrohir at the dinner together. She had seen Haldir sitting next to Lord Celeborn when she had first entered the dining hall, but she had been focused on keeping Elrohir from embarrassing her. The young elf had been emboldened by the festivities. From the moment he had appeared at her residence to escort her to the dining hall, Elrohir had flattered her and whispered awful poetry into her ear for the whole length of dinner. She was thankful Elladan had been otherwise occupied with one of Lady Celebrían’s handmaidens, or else she would have had to deal with the pair of brothers. Rána had managed to escape Elrohir’s notice when she had sent him to fetch her a glass of wine. 

_Your relationship_ _with_ _Lord_ _Elrohir_.

Was Haldir implying she was romantically involved with Elrohir?

Rána could not stop herself from laughing. She nearly doubled over at the ridiculousness of the idea. How pleased Elrohir would be at the misunderstanding. She almost felt sorry the younger elf was not here to witness this scene. 

“You may find this amusing,” Haldir said angrily while pacing before her. “But I am not the type of elf who competes over an elleth’s attentions.”

Realizing the warden’s obvious mortification, Rána stifled her laughter. She realized, unlike the rest of the Rivendell court, Haldir had no idea Elrohir’s actions were entirely harmless. 

Instantly, she clarified, “You are gravely mistaken, Haldir. I promise you, there is no romantic relationship between myself and Lord Elrohir. His intentions are _entirely_ innocent. He enjoys teasing me, but please know his intentions are not serious.”

“You may not think them serious, but even Lord Celeborn was able to discern that there are some romantic feelings between you two.”

 _By the Valar_ , Rána flushed at the idea of rumors spreading about her and Elrohir. She had to be more careful. She had been the talk of rumors before. She knew firsthand what it was like to be scrutinized by judgmental eyes and whispered about in hushed tones. She would not be made to look a fool again.

Adamantly, she insisted, “I’ve known Elrohir since he was a babe in arms. He is young enough to be my grandson many times over.”

“Experience can recommend a partner,” Haldir seethed. “Lord Celeborn suggested you can correct his silly manners.”

“I promise you,” she swore, frustration bubbling in her throat. “I am not romantically interested in Elrohir despite what anyone may say. If you choose not to believe me, then that is your will, but I will not hear one more word about the subject.”

Disappointment tainted her resolute speech. Rána felt a wave of dissatisfaction wash over her. Turning her gaze from Haldir, she focused on the waterfall. How had the night ended up so disastrously? To think, hours ago, she had been looking forward to spending time with the Marchwarden.

Momentary silence fell between the two elves as each stewed in their own emotion. The sound of the music wafted from below mixing with the echoes of the waterfall in an intoxicatingly beautiful melody.

A soft grip on her shoulder caused her to turn her head back to Haldir. The Marchwarden was stoically cool, but there was an apologetic glint in his eye. He cleared his throat; obvious discomfort radiating off his person.

“My apologies if I have offended you. I should not have jumped to such a conclusion. I just did not want to overstep any boundary. I respect Lord Elrond and would not insult his son…or you for that matter by appearing inappropriate,” he awkwardly muttered. 

Rána noticed he was blushing. 

The blush assisted in stripping away his militaristic demeanor; the one Haldir had been wearing since his arrival in Rivendell. No doubt the stern attitude was helpful for commanding the Lórien guard, but from what little she could discern, she could tell it was not his true nature. Rána could not help but wonder what her would look like with a genuine smile on his face. 

Haldir obviously cared about whether she had a paramour. If she was bolder, she would ask him why he cared whether she and Elrohir were together. Push him to admit the truth, but she stopped herself. 

_“But I am not the type of elf who competes over an elleth.”_

Instead, she took small pleasure in the simple fact that, for whatever reason, he cared. It had been a long time since someone had paid her such consideration. 

Now, she felt her cheeks begin to burn. Hiding her face, she Rána gazed down at the revelers beneath them on the dance floor. Haldir came to stand beside her.

“Would you care to dance again, Rána of the Vanyar?” He inquired. His tone held a hint of hope, and she enjoyed the sound of her name on his lips. “I promise this time, I shall be a livelier dance partner.”

“A tempting offer, but it seems there is no room for us,” she motioned to the dance floor filled to the brim with couples. Elrohir and Elladan were also among the crowd, and she thought it best not to attract their attention. She would need to pay closer attention to her behavior from now on. It would be best to return to her residence and put the night’s events behind her.

“I think I have a solution to that problem.”

Rána looked uncertainly at Haldir as he offered his hand; wondering what the warden had in mind. To her amazement, he took her hand in his, leading her away from the balcony in the empty space of the platform. He placed his arm around her waist keeping one of her hands firmly in his grasp. The song drifting up from below was slower, melodic. In the distance, a bird cried some sorrowful song of sleep. 

They began to dance.

This dance was different than the first. Like the music, the dance steps were languid. It was an intimate dance reserved usually for romantic partners.

Rána could feel the beat of her heart; nearly ten times faster than the music she danced to. It felt as if her heart would break free from her chest at any moment. As Haldir spun her, his hand briefly raked across her midsection, fingers scorching a path across her clothed skin, until it returned to her side. She tried to maintain a calm composure, but her insides burned. A familiar feeling of longing crept out from its hiding place deep within her soul. She dared to wonder if he felt the same.

The pair continued to dance. There arms slowly tangling and untangling in time with the music. Two fair figures illuminated by the bright moon and the stars above.

When the song concluded, they came to a standstill. 

She was very aware of the Haldir’s arm still around her waist. His hand held hers possessively. She placed her free hand against his tunic. His pulse quickened beneath her touch.

Haldir was gazing down at her studying her face. His eyes were black and there was a new expression in his regard which Rána recognized instantly— _desire._

Their faces were inches apart. 

The Marchwarden pulled back slightly. For a fleeting second, Rána believed that was the end of their tête-à-tête. 

Then, he leaned forward.

 _He is going to kiss me_.

Her mind registered the thought right as his mouth met hers. 

Suddenly, her mind went blank as his fingers came to rest at the back of her neck; gently grabbing hold of the loose hair hanging down her back. Haldir’s lips were soft and pressing gently against hers in a chastened manner. His body held her firmly in place. A long dormant heat was blooming in her core. She felt herself give into the kiss; savoring the feeling of an elf’s hands on her once more. It had been too long. Centuries had past since she had last kissed an elf. 

At once, the golden visage of Aegnor came to the forefront of her mind. 

The initial shock in her system was supplanted by a cold reality which came crashing down around her. 

Rána was alone in an alcove kissing an elf she barely knew. She was a wanton fool. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? 

A cold sensation flooded her system like a bucket of ice water tossed onto her head. Hastily, Rána tugged herself free from Haldir’s grasp. Her heart was screaming at her to return to his arms while her mind was signaling for retreat. She took a few unsteady steps backwards seeing the Marchwarden watch her with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Her body felt like it had been branded by his touch, and she could not catch her breath. 

Haldir stepped forward. His mouth opened; words already forming on his tongue to soothe her obvious panic, but it was too late. The elleth's instincts were already taking over. 

Without warning, Rána turned and fled.

* * *

_“You know you are not to be blamed for what happened with my brother,” Lady Galadriel murmured while rolling the lembas dough in her hands._

_Orithil fumbled with the rolling pin in her grasp, nearly dropping it to the floor._

_She had been lost in contemplation; thinking about Aegnor, wondering if he was alright. She should know better by now to watch her thoughts around her mistress. Galadriel had the gift of telepathy. She could read Orithil’s mind like a book._

_“It takes two elves to enter into an engagement,” Galadriel continued as she cut the dough into smaller portions. “Just like it takes two elves to enter into bed with one another.”_

_There was no scrutiny in the lady’s musings just infallible honesty. Despite the taboo nature of the subject they discussed, Orithil did not feel humiliated at Lady Galadriel’s knowledge of her relationship with Aegnor._

_Nothing escaped the great lady’s notice._

_Over two decades had passed since Orithil had left Nargothrond and entered into Galadriel’s service. Upon her arrival, Orithil had told Galadriel the reason for her leaving Nargothrond; though she had failed to tell her the full extent of what had transpired between herself and the Galadriel’s brother, Aegnor. However, over the years, Galadriel had pried the information from Orithil steadily like a gardener tending a flower that blossomed but once a year._

_Orithil was happy here in Doriath, yet her decision to leave Nargothrond, and her behavior in that city, still weighed heavily on her heart. It was the guilt. It hung over her head like a grey cloud. No respectable elf, especially an elf of her standing, lay with another elf outside the sanctity of marriage. Her sister had tried to warn her against such a foolish scheme, but she had not listened. Her arrogance had caused her downfall, and now she lived with the regret. She could not return to home to Valinor draped in a cloud of ruin. No, the rest of her days would be spent on this earth in penance for her imprudence._

_“Do not resign yourself to such a fate yet, Orithil.” Galadriel chided as she sat the dough into the oven. Her perfectly rolled bread outshone Orithil’s own lumpy creations. The Lady came to stand beside her handmaiden, her illustrious light bringing warmth to Orithil’s spirit. Warmly, the lady spoke, “You have yet to find your true purpose in this world. You believed you would stand by my brother’s side; however, he is meant to walk alone towards his fate. The Valar guide us all, and you would do well to listen to their direction as you walk down your own path.”_

_Setting aside her feelings, she wanly smiled and nodded her head in acceptance of the lady’s advice. She directed Galadriel’s attention to the lembas baking in the great stone oven; it was ready to be removed and wrapped for storage._

_Despite Galadriel’s hopeful reassurance, Orithil could not help but think her path was to wander aimlessly. She would do well in the future to hide these thoughts from Galadriel lest the lady think her ungrateful for such care. For now, Orithil allowed herself to be comforted by the warm smell of the fresh bread._


	9. Chapter 9

Three days had past since the night of the feast.

Ever since Rána had unexpectedly fled from him after their kiss, Haldir had been torturing himself over his actions. How had he been so foolish? He was an elf of honor. He was not the sort of person to go kissing someone he barely knew after just two dances.

Rána was _different_. He begrudgingly realized she was unlike any other elleth he had ever met. From the time of their first meeting on the field of battle decades ago, he had always wondered what had happened to his savior; what had become of the beautiful healer who had brought him back from the brink of death. He was utterly fascinated by her in a way he had never experienced. Standing there on the dance floor with her in his arms, witnessing how the moonlight bounced off her hair and made her eyes glow like starlight, he was powerless to resist. He had succumbed to his desires so quickly. 

For a fleeting moment, Haldir believed the elleth reciprocated his feelings.

When she had suddenly torn herself away from his grasp with a look of abject horror on her face, he had felt like the lowest of beings. He had tried to soothe her concern. He remembered the endless list of apologies which had jumped to the forefront of his mind. To his utter chagrin, Haldir had watched Rána flee the hanging gardens before he could say anything to her. 

Now, he was left with a pit of guilt and frustration in his stomach. 

Haldir had done his best to locate Rána. He needed to speak to her; explain his behavior. He had visited the hospital wing with Rúmil, but only found her assistant who made stuttering excuses about her absence. He had checked in on Lady Celebrían, falsely inquiring after her health, only to be told that it was usual for Rána to slip away for a day or two on some errand. Even Lady Galadriel was unaware of the healer’s disappearance; brushing off Rána’s actions as part of her “wandering nature”—whatever that meant. He would not press the lady for insight lest he betray his deeper feelings. Finally, desperate for some sighting of her, Haldir had even been so bold as to go by her residence and knock on her front door. 

It was as if the elf had vanished, and it seemed no one was as concerned as he was.

Rúmil was already endlessly teasing him for his interest in the healer. His wardens were curious about his behavior at the feast. Lord Elrond had even inquired after his well-being after Haldir failed to attend a meeting regarding the patrol of Among Sul. It was apparent to all that he was distracted and, being the proudly private individual he was, Haldir would be remiss to let his true feelings be revealed to the world before they were even revealed to Rána.

So, Haldir was resolved to try and put Rána from his mind until she returned. It was proving a difficult task as all of Rivendell spoke so highly of her. Everywhere he went, something reminded him of the healer. 

Which was why Haldir had volunteered to lead the expedition to the ruins of Amon Sûl. 

It was only a quick scouting mission. Only himself and a dozen riders; a mix of wardens and Rivendell guard. The ruins were not far from Rivendell. They had departed in the early hours of the morning and arrived in Amon Sul by midday. Furthermore, the patrol permitted him some fresh air. Time alone with his own thoughts away from the allure of a certain elleth. 

A small part of him hoped, by the he returned to the city, Rána would have reappeared.

Some riders were gone to comb through the ruins while another contingent patrolled the riverway. Thus far, there were no sign of orcs, or other foul beasts, but it was their duty to ensure the region was free from such darkness. 

Presently, Haldir was patrolling the Trollshaws alone. There were no troll dens to speak of along the southern road. Most of the beasts had been pushed back to the northern borders by Lord Elrond and his guards. Still, he combed through the forest to ensure it was free of any trolls.

A rain storm had passed through the area upon their arrival. Water dripped from the forest's canopy onto his hood causing it to cling to his forehead. He wiped away the dampness and pushed his hood back; patting his horse’s neck in assurance.

Haldir came to a clearing and scanned the surroundings. 

In the distance, he heard some rustling and his ears perked up at the noise. Directing his horse onward, the Marchwarden rode through a bramble patch into a thicket. Haldir readied his sword expecting to come across an orc, or forest troll. Instead, he came across a hooded figure bent over the ground. His horse reared up on his back legs; loudly neighing at the unexpected person standing before them. The figure stood with their arms out in an attempt to calm his horse. The action caused the figure's cape to fall from her shoulders revealing long blonde hair and amber eyes.

Haldir felt his stomach drop as Rána tried in vain to shush his startled horse. 

His eyes met hers and immediately he reigned in his stallion. He jumped from the saddle and directed his horse's distress away from the elleth.

After his stallion was calmed and busy chomping away at a patch of fresh grass, he turned back to make sure Rána was okay. He tried to school his expression into something neutral, but he was sure his eyes were wide in surprise.

"I did not expect to find your here in the Trollshaw."

It wasn’t the most eloquent of sentiments, but he his mind could not process a wittier remark. Haldir glanced at the ground and saw the elleth's cloak laying at his feet. He picked up the fallen cape and handed it back to its owner. Rána secured it around her shoulders while explaining, "I was on my way back to Rivendell from Bree when the rain began. I took cover in the trees and though I might as well pick some medicinal items for the healing wing's stores while I was here."

She motioned to the ground behind her where jars were filled with various botanical clippings.

 _Bree_ , that is where the healer had wandered off to. Had his actions at the feast driven her from Rivendell? 

As if sensing his concern, Rána quickly added, "I was sent a missive from the physician in Bree the morning after the feast. There is an outbreak of sweating sickness in the town and he is overrun with patients and in need of assistance. You see, I trained the physician when he was a young apprentice, so he and I know each other very well.”

Her assurance did little to assuage his internal doubts. 

An awkward silence descended upon the two. Rána went back to her jars and he followed her. When she began to pick them up and secure their lids, he assisted her without question marveling at all that she had collected on her own. 

"Your presence in Rivendell was greatly missed," he commented after a while. The healer glanced over at him dubiously; her eyebrows raised in surprise. He elaborated, "Er...Lady Celebrían and Lady Galadriel were unaware of where you had gone to when I inquired after your whereabouts."

“It was so urgent, I did not have the chance to tell anyone I was leaving. I only told my assistant, Meyrav, in case there was an emergency.”

It seemed a plausible story. However, he didn’t enjoy the idea of Rána traversing the woods alone.

“Do you often travel to Bree without an escort?” 

She shrugged, “Yes, I’m familiar with the southern road and I know not to go too deep into the forest. I travel so frequently to Bree, I do not wish to bother Lord Elrond or any of the guard.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t find it an inconvenience,” he said. “There are no trolls in the woods now, but after the orc attack in the Mountains, you can’t be too careful. Do you carry a weapon with you?”

“Besides a pocket knife, no I do not,” she ruefully laughed. “I’m not much skilled in weaponry, I can handle a bow well-enough, but I haven’t used one in ages.”

“I can practice with you, if you wish. I’d feel more comfortable knowing you were at least armed on your visits.”

The smile on her lips immediately turned into a frown. Rána shook her head while standing up; jars in tow, “No, I wouldn’t impose on your time.”

“I promise it wouldn’t be an imposition.” Despite Haldir’s even tone, his throat felt restricted from nerves. He cleared his throat. 

Rána was avoiding his gaze and her cheeks were colored pink. Was she fearful of being alone with him? His plan to put her at ease was failing miserably. He had to do something. When she turned away, he stopped her; grabbing her elbow gently, “Rána, if I did anything to offend you, the night of the feast when I kissed you, I beg your forgiveness. I admit I acted hastily.”

At the mention of the feast, Rána froze; her back facing him. He witnessed her rigidity and likened it to how a cornered animal reacted; hackles raised waiting for attack. He let go of her elbow, wishing to ease her apprehension, and continued, “You wondered why when we first met, I appeared so familiar to you, and it is because we have met before. You were a healer tending to the injured after the Last Alliance. I’m sure you do not remember, but I had been injured by a Ringwraith’s blade and you healed me.”

She said nothing. Had he been imprudent to think that the revelation would elicit some emotion in her? The way she had gazed up at him in healing wing trying to recollect where they had last met gave some indication that she was curious. The elleth was so guarded. He was determined to understand why she seemed to be holding him at a distance.

From his position, he could not tell what her facial expression was like, only that her posture had slightly relaxed. Her silence caused him to continue, he needed to get everything out between them.

“When I saw you in the healing wing, the night Rúmil was injured, I was surprised to see you again. I believed I would never again have the chance to speak to the elf who saved my life. Then, being around you, speaking to you, I realized I am drawn to you in a way I have never felt for another. I was under the impression you too felt something during the kiss—"

“Please!” she interrupted. “There is no need for any apology or excuses.”

Facing him, she avoided his gaze. He saw an unusual expression in her eyes, and she was tightly hugging the glass jars to her chest. He went to say something, but she stopped him.

“What happened the night of the feast was a foolish misstep on my part. I’m grateful to you for trying to explain what happened, but I do not need an explanation. I take full responsibility for leading you on… Let us say no more and continue as friends, Haldir of Lórien.”

When she was finished speaking, she continued on through the trees. Haldir was left there in the thicket wondering what had just happened. He had admitted his romantic interest in Rána and she, in turn, had indifferently rebuffed him. Obviously, he had been very wrong to consider she held any sort of affection for him. A part of him suspected she was not telling him the full story; that she was hiding something from him. To be sure, he would find out in due time what this secret was. He would not so easily give up his feelings without knowing all of the facts. Nevertheless, he would respect her request for space. 

Stifling his own embarrassment, he finished picking up the remaining jars and followed after the elleth. 

Rána was busy placing the jars into a pack on her horse's back. He handed her the jars and she took them from him avoiding his gaze. When they were done, she whispered a quick "thank you" while lifting herself into her saddle, "I should be returning back to Rivendell before it begins to rain again."

"I can escort you back to the city," he extended. 

Regardless of her romantic feelings for him, Haldir had a sworn duty to protect others from danger. The sun was waning in the sky, and the forest itself was quite dark.

Predictably, the healer shook her head, "Do not concern yourself, I'll be fine on my own."

Haldir watched as she cantered away towards the main road back to Rivendell’s gates. He returned to his own horse and, with a head swimming with a range of emotions from the encounter, he made his way back to reunite with the rest of the patrol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one because this story is just too good not to write. I hope you all are enjoying. Shoot me a comment and some kuddos if you are feeling generous. Hope everyone is staying safe!


	10. Chapter 10

_The earth had been painted black by fire and chaos. Ash fell from the sky like dirty snow. It clung to her cloak and her hair. When Orithil brushed the ash from her skin, it left behind streaks of black. Pulling her hood up tighter around her face, she urged her horse onward._

_She passed beneath the stone archway of the Nargothrond fortress. The guards tipped their heads as she passed; the formerly shiny breastplates of the guard were dented and battered._

_War had touched these lands._

_In the courtyard of the castle stood Finrod. His gaze fell on her and she steadied her mount. Coming towards him, Orithil perceived the depths of sadness in the elf’s eyes; the loss of so many lives no doubt weighed heavily on the elven King’s shoulders. He greeted her as one would an old friend with arms outstretched. She leapt from her ride and came forward. She was momentarily surprised as Finrod’s arms engrossed her._

_“Tye péle, yer-nur,” The King welcomed her with a bittersweet voice._

_She politely corrected, “I did not come to stay, I only came to see him.”_

_As comforted as she was by the sight of Finrod, he reminded her of Amarië and the golden fields of Valinor, Orithil would not be distracted from her mission. Her return to Nargothrond was for a singular purpose._

_The King seemed to understand and nodded: “Then come, we will not dwell here longer.”_

_Finrod led her back through the gates on foot. She followed wondering why the destination they sought was not located within the walls of the castle. Instead, they traversed a blackened landscape with mounds of dirt and rock rising up around them. A cold sensation crawled up her spine; an entirely foreign experience. Was there wailing in the distance? She heard voices in the air._

_This was a place of suffering. Evil had wrought this land; an evil Orithil had not seen before._

_She hugged her cloak tighter to her chest and quickened her pace to walk in stride with the King._

_Up on the cliffside before them was a series of stone edifices. Finrod motioned for her to continue on alone. He stood resolute with his eyes gazing past her to the landscape in the distance. His brow was heavy with sorrow._

_So, this was it—this is what she had come to see._

_Orithil took a settling breath and walked past the King to stand before the marked graves. Slowly, she read the titles carved into the stone edifices until her eyes fell on the name she sought:_

**_Aegnor_ ** _, **son** **of** **Finarfin**. _

_Stepping forward, Orithil sank to her knees before the grave of her former love. She put her hands to the marble stone and wondered why fate had led them on this path. They had been so fool-hearted, so reckless. Had it all been for nothing? She began to weep; her tears falling into the soil at the foot of the grave._

_Orithil sat back on her heels and thought about the last time she had seen Aegnor; how she had spoken in anger and disappointment. If she had the gift of foresight, she would have acted differently. She would have told Aegnor how much he had meant to her; all that he still meant to her. He deserved to live knowing that someone in this world still cared for him._

_After her tears subsided, she glanced around at the other stones._

_Beside Aegnor’s grave lay another. It caught Orithil’s eye as a waning streak of sunlight hit a bright spot on the headstone. The stone was carved with the name “Andreth of House Beor” and inlayed into the marble above the woman’s name lay a familiar silver ring. The golden larinque blossom at the ring’s center glowed. The one shining light amid the desolate burial ground._

_She felt a warmth spread through her chest and the ghost of a smile graced her face._

_Aegnor did not die alone. Someone had been by his side._

_The grief pooling in her chest eased; however, an innate part of her knew the feeling would never really leave._

_“Thank you,” Orithil murmured as her fingers traced over the golden flower._

_She had found what she was searching for: answers._

_Standing, she whispered a final goodbye to her golden prince and prayed his soul found the Halls of Awaiting; may the Valar be merciful._

_Maybe one day they would meet again._

_For now, time marched on, and she would go with it._

* * *

Rána awoke with a start. Hair stuck to her wet cheeks. She had been crying in her sleep. Glancing around, she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her bedroom. 

The dream had felt so real as if she had been transported to that day when she had visited Aegnor’s grave. It had been so long since she had dreamt of Aegnor. However, since her kiss with Haldir, when she remembered what it was felt like having Aegnor’s lips on hers, her memories of Aegnor had been plaguing her waking thoughts and, apparently, her dreams. 

Grabbing her robe, Rána secured it over her nightgown and made for her front door. 

The fresh air hit her face cooling off her warmed skin. The moon was low in the sky nearly disappearing into the western horizon. Despite dawn’s approach, none of Rivendell’s citizens appeared to stir as she wandered the gardens near her residence. Her feet moved of their own accord down a stone pathway towards an arbor she visited whenever she needed a quiet place to reflect. The arbor was covered by ivy surrounded by an endless field of late summer blossoms. Soon the field would be empty with autumn's approach. She would enjoy the blossoms while they lasted. All elves learned to appreciate the change of seasons in this world. She liked autumn. The season rbought with it the smell of warm broths and spiced cider. 

A mourning dove cooed in the distance, but the rest of the world slept. Sitting on the stone bench beneath the arbor, Rána tried to piece together her what was wrong.

The encounter with Haldir yesterday had startled her.

She hated to admit, but she had been avoiding the Marchwarden since the feast. Her trip to Bree had come at the most opportune time. A few days away from the warden’s presence was supposed to help ease her troubles. Working to heal the sick had put her back into her usual headspace. Made her refocus on her duty; her purpose in life. 

Then, seeing Haldir there in the forest, listening to him tell her how much he was interested in her, her peace of mind had fled, and her doubts and concerns had only increased ten-fold. Loathe to admit it, Rána was terrified of her feelings for him. For so long she had been alone. The last time she had felt this way was when she had been with Aegnor, and that had obviously ended in disaster and death. 

Up until now, she honestly believed herself utterly incapable of experiencing such emotion again. 

Yet, there was a small part of Rána, buried deep within, which was excited at the prospect of romance. 

Now that her memory had been jogged, she recalled tending to Haldir on the field of the Last Alliance. She had waded through the fallen armies; hoping to find a living soul who had survived the battle. There, among the armies of Lord Elrond and the Woodland Realm, she had found the Marchwarden badly bleeding from a wound at his side. The blade of the Ringwraith had been driven so deep, she was sure the elf would not survive. 

Using all the powers the Valar had gifted her, Rána had nursed him for hours willing him to live. 

When he was able to open his eyes, Rána recalled the way Haldir had gazed up at her with reverence. She had thought his eyes were such a beautiful color which was why, when seeing him again days ago in the healing wing, she had marveled once more at their depths. 

Did the Valar have some reason for them to cross paths again after such a brief encounter?

Haldir was attractive and well-regarded by all who knew him. The ways his hands had moved across her body during the dance…she wondered what how it would feel having his hands elsewhere.

“ _Man_ _erin Orithil,_ I had a feeling I would find you here.”

Lady Galadriel stood at the arbor’s entrance breaking Rána from her reverie. Galadriel gleamed in her gown of silver like a fallen star come to earth. Rána bowed her head in respect as the lady ascended the steps and sat down beside her. She enjoyed the sound of her old name which only Galadriel still used.

“I heard you met with Haldir while passing through the Trollshaw. He seemed unsettled by your discussion,” Galadriel inquired, her eyes gleaming knowingly. 

With a steadying breath, Rána explained, “I’m afraid I disappointed Haldir yesterday. He voiced his interest well, his _romantic_ interest, in me, and I believe he wishes to enter into some sort of…courtship. However, I do not think it a wise idea.”

She waited for the lady’s response. 

After a moment, Galadriel smiled, “Do you not reciprocate his feelings? I know many in Lórien, and even here in Rivendell, find the Marchwarden to be a handsome elf.”

“It’s not that,” Rána shook her head in embarrassment. “I _am_ interested in him, but I am worried about my past and how it may influence this new possibility.”

Galadriel listened as Rána continued,

“After what happened with Aegnor, I swore I would never be so foolish again. I put my energy towards carving an honest place for me in this world. I never imagined opening myself to anyone else and assumed it wasn’t my destiny to find a partner. A week ago, I was sure the rest of my days here would be spent using my skills of healing to help others while waiting for the call of the sea to return west and be with my family. Now, that plan seems to be unraveling before my very eyes.”

“I told you many years ago to not burden yourself with mistakes; learn from them, but do not let them weigh you down like iron chains. Your relationship with Aegnor set you on a path which has led you here to this moment. Allow yourself the possibility of happiness,” Galadriel counseled. She stroked a lock of hair away from Rána’s forehead, and Rána felt comforted by the lady’s presence. How often had she turned to the great lady for advice? She owed Galadriel an unpayable debt. 

After a minute of introspection, Rána still had a question lingering in the forefront of her mind:

“What if he judges me for my indiscretion? I cannot expect an elf in his position to find my past behavior acceptable.”

Galadriel waited a moment before saying, “That is a risk you will have to take but, if I am correct, the risk will be worth the reward.”

After that, the two fell silent. Rána let the lady’s words ruminate in her head while the lady beside her focused her attentions on the wakening world. The flower blossoms were beginning to reopen from their nightly slumber. Their perfume filled the air. The gardens were bathed in the light of a new day and the sounds of voices drifted towards them. It was hard to feel morose in such a wonderous setting. 

Possibility hung in air.

When she had returned to her residence after walking with Lady Galadriel back to the center of the town, Rána was left with her mind abuzz. Would she take the risk? She couldn’t say for certain, but she knew she would have to decide soon. As she went to get ready for the day, her eye caught her gown from the feast; haphazardly draped over a chair. She touched the fabric as she went to put it back in her wardrobe and a smile pulled at the corner of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Enjoy the new chapter, I'm glad you all are appreciating the story! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Grey clouds gathered overhead. The smell of rain lingered in the air. As Haldir wandered along the lowest levels of Rivendell, where the earth was rocky and the river flowed, he was allowed a moment of quiet contemplation. A part of him missed the tranquility of Lothlórien, and the solemnity of the trees which protected his birthplace. Rivendell was beauteous, to be sure, but it wasn’t his home. His people were born among the forests’ canopies. As a child, he had learned to climb before he even began to walk. 

Duty had brought him to Rivendell. Now, Haldir was compelled to stay not only for duty, but for a desire to be near Rána. 

Despite her indifferent behavior towards him in the Trollshaws, he was still interested in her. There was something stopping her from reciprocating her feelings; some barrier between them. When he had returned from his patrol, he had met with Lord Elrond, Lord Celeborn, and Lady Galadriel. His report had been received favorably, but the way Lady Galadriel had looked at him when he briefly mentioned running into the healer on the road back from Bree unsettled him. Even Lord Elrond had asked him if something was occurring between them. Although he would not admit the full extent of his desires, Haldir had confided in the Rivendell Lord that he was romantically interested in the elleth. 

The elven lord did not counsel Haldir to stop his pursuit of Rána. Rather, he counseled the Marchwarden to be patient with the healer. While he would not elaborate on the details, Elrond had informed him that Rána’s path in Middle Earth had not always run smooth which left the healer cautious of letting people in.

“Rána is without kinfolk or familial ties to anyone here in this world. Some view it as a lonely life, but she has done very well to fill it with purpose. However, being alone so long has made her wary of connecting deeply with anyone. What you desire to do is not easily accomplished, nevertheless it will be worthwhile when you succeed,” Elrond had said. 

What made him hopeful was Elrond’s use of the word ‘when’: “ _when you succeed._ ”

Moreover, his discussion with Elrond only fed Haldir’s growing interest in finding out more about the elleth. There were questions he had which needed answers. 

Why had she remained in this world when her kin remained in the Undying Land? 

His own parents had heard the call of the sea and had traveled West. It had been difficult, to part from his mother and father, but Haldir at least had the support of his brothers to rely on. He couldn’t imagine how Rána felt with no family of her own. She had no one to watch over, to rely on, to support her. 

This led him to ask another question: why had she never married? 

By now, an elf of her age and position would typically be married with children of her own. She was the same age as Lady Galadriel who had grandchildren. It was unlikely that no elf had ever expressed their interest in the elleth. Rána was beautiful, talented, and from a noble line. He witnessed firsthand the way Elrohir clung to her skirt. Surely, there had been suitors before the young lordling. 

Perhaps, Rána did not desire companionship.

Lady Galadriel did mention the healer possessed a “wandering” nature (whatever that meant). Even the name Rána was descended from the Sindarin word “to wander.” 

He wondered why her spirit was so unsettled. 

As he rounded the river bend, a voice drifted towards him. Someone was singing.

The soft melody was carried by the wind to his ears. Haldir could not make out the words being said. He could only feel the emotion of the vocalist. The voice struck a chord in his heart and, all at once, he felt a depth of serenity which he had never before felt. His pace inadvertently quickened as he sought to discover who the voice belonged to. 

There on the river bank was Rána. 

A blanket was spread out beneath her and there was a book on her lap. She was dressed in a simple gown of yellow with a white shawl around her shoulders. Her sharp cheeks were obscured by golden hair hanging loose around her face. She shone like a streak of sunlight on this overcast day. 

The language she sung in was something foreign, but the tune was stunning nonetheless. 

Haldir stopped a distance away; preferring to not make his presence known just yet. Instead, he enjoyed watching the healer from a distance as she sang. The Vanyar were known for their musical abilities. Hearing her sing only confirmed the gifts Manwe had granted all who were descended from the first born elves.

When she was finished with her song, he began to clap revealing his location. 

Quickly, Rána looked around until she saw him approaching from downriver.

“I should’ve announced myself sooner,” Haldir explained with a slight bow. “However, they say the Vanyar are the most musically gifted of our race, and I am now confident to say that is very true.”

Surprisingly, the healer smiled, “Thank you, but I am not half as gifted as others I know. Usually I reserve my singing for when I’m alone in my home where only my possessions can judge me.”

Rána motioned for him to take a seat on the blanket beside her. As eager as he was to accept, the Marchwarden shook his head, “I won’t disturb you if you were wishing to be left alone. I was just on a walk and heard this route was quite…scenic.”

He mentally kicked himself for the awkward compliment. Additionally, he wouldn’t intrude on the elleth’s alone time. He had vowed to give her space.

“You’re not disturbing me. I was just trying to make out this song’s melody, but the script is sloppily written,” she responded while motioning to the book in her lap. “You wouldn’t happen to know any Westron?”

Her tone was conversational and, again, she offered him a seat beside her. Her manner assured him she was fine with him being there and, the last time they had spoken, she had mentioned continuing on as friends. Reassured by her behavior, he came to sit beside her; observing the unusual script on the open pages of the book.

“Unfortunately, I do not speak much Westron besides the basic greetings, and I cannot read it. I know I should learn more, but I haven’t had the opportunity to travel among the company of non-elves. Were you singing in Westron just now?”

She nodded in confirmation, “Yes, I was given this book of songs as a thank-you for the work I did while I was in Bree. Some of the songs I’ve heard before, but the one I was singing is new to me.” 

He marveled at how a song in a language he could not even understand evoked such a response from him. Then again, it was likely the singer not the song itself which touched his soul.

“Did you learn Westron while you were traveling? I’ve heard from Lord Elrond that you have visited almost every major settlement in Adar,” Haldir carefully inquired. He wouldn’t hide the fact that he had been asking after her to Lord Elrond lest she find out from someone else. 

“Yes, I learned Westron when I was traveling,” the healer said; amber eyes bearing into him. “It’s always helpful to be able to speak to the person you are healing. Now, almost everyone speaks Westron, save for most members of our kind, so it’s quite useful to know. I could teach you, if you really wish to understand it.”

“That would be wonderful. If it’s not too much trouble,” he accepted. 

“It’s no trouble at all. Besides, it would be for my benefit, as well. I’ll have someone to practice with besides Lord Elrond.”

Their conversation continued from language to general interests. He discovered her other talents including the creation of essences and perfumes which Rána distributed to the inhabitants of Rivendell. The way her eyes lit up while discussing her work was captivating. She spoke with such earnest excitement that it was evident she had truly stumbled upon her purpose, and was more than happy to share her talents for healing and herbalism with others. 

In turn, Haldir told her of his longing to join the wardens as a child; practicing with his father’s bow and arrow as soon as he could carry them. He regaled her with stories of growing up with Rumil and Orophin. Months spent visiting his maternal relatives in Mirkwood where they practiced with King Oropher’s guard. How proud his parents were when he joined the Lothlórien guard and eventually was promoted to Chief Marchwarden.

Time passed by easily as they conversed until a bright flash of lightening lit-up the sky above them. It was followed by raucous thunder which rung in Haldir’s ears. 

“I think we better be heading back. It will begin to rain soon,” Rána observed as another streak of lightening painted the sky. 

Haldir agreed and assisted Rána in folding the blanket they had been sitting on. They began their walk back up the cliff side in companionable silence. It was too bad they could not continue talking, but the Marchwarden was happy to have taken a positive step forward with the elleth. 

Midway up their ascent, a downpour ensued catching Haldir and Rána by surprise. 

Without thinking, Haldir unfurled the blanket and held it above them for protection. Rána held her book protectively to her chest while huddling under the makeshift shield. He could feel the warmth of her body as she was pressed against his side. 

Their pace quickened until they were both in an outright sprint. 

He heard Rána laughing; a warm sound which made him also begin to chuckle at the unfortunate predicament they were in. He followed the elleth over the winding bridges and stairways of Rivendell proper until they stopped at a familiar structure. 

The entrance to Rána’s home had a marble archway which protected them from the inclement weather. Haldir dropped the blanket over a railing before wiping his face with his sleeve. His clothing was made to repel water. Thus, it remained dry despite the onslaught. 

Rána, on the other hand, was soaked from head to toe. Her hair was dripping and stuck to her face. She had lost her shawl somewhere along the way and her gown provocatively clung to her; outlining every rounded curve of her figure. He knew he should avert his gaze, but he was transfixed by the sight. Desire pooled in his belly and he quickly schooled his mind pushing away all impertinent feelings.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had reason to run like that,” she cheerfully said blissfully unaware of the Marchwarden’s carnal musings. “Thankfully, we were able to save my book. It’s only a bit damp around the upper corner.”

“I’m sorry I could not save you from the rain,” he added.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I was planning on bathing before dinner this evening. Now it seems I don’t have to anymore.”

Haldir grinned at the joke, “Are you dining with Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond tonight? I’ve been invited to dinner, as well.”

“Yes, they’re always kind enough to extend an open invitation to dine with them whenever I feel like it. Normally, I prefer to dine alone, but I thought tonight it would be a nice change to eat among friends. Would you care to walk over together? I can meet you at the barracks next to the training yards.”

If he was surprised by the offer from the healer, he did well to mask it. They agreed to meet and walk over to the main residence together. 

As he made his way back to his rooms, the rain was only a light mist. 

The weather did little to dampen Haldir’s spirits. He was genuinely amazed at how his day had turned out. Specifically, he was pleased with the vast difference in the behavior of Rána today versus when he had spoken with her in the Trollshaws. 

Perhaps, her change in behavior was due to some revelation on her part regarding him, or a genuine wish to be friends. Whatever had changed, Haldir would revel in his ability to be with the healer; to slowly discover all that there was to know about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believed a little Haldir and Rána interaction was called for. Can you tell whether Rána has made up her mind towards Haldir? I hope you're enjoying! Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Moisture hung in the air from the earlier rainstorm. It caused the lantern light to morph into glowing halos. Fireflies swarmed around Rána’s feet as she moved across the flagstones towards the training yards. Anticipation whirled in her belly as she sought out Haldir. Rána bowed her head respectfully as soldiers passed by with a curious glance. Her presence at the training yards was no general cause for concern. However, she had a feeling the looks she received had more to do with who she was waiting for rather than why she was there. For the first time in a while, she did not seem to care if people whispered about her. Lady Galadriel’s sage advice resonated in her mind. 

Why should she be ashamed of her feelings for the Marchwarden?

“Ah Rána, there you are!”

Rúmil appeared from the barracks, “Haldir sends his apologies, but Lord Celeborn called him away to speak with him before the dinner this evening.”

She schooled her face to mask her disappointment.

“I hope everything is okay?” Rána queried.

Rúmil nodded, “I’m not privy to conversations between my brother and Lord Celeborn, but I know of nothing which should alarm you. Knowing Lord Celeborn, it was a routine discussion regarding today's training report.”

Despite the elf’s insistence nothing was wrong, she felt like her senses were suddenly on alert. She wondered if Lord Celeborn was aware of the mutual affection between Haldir and herself. Even though Galadriel was happy to encourage the relationship Rána was developing with the Marchwarden, this did not guarantee her husband would be as supportive. 

“No, I shall be fine walking over by myself, Rúmil, thank you for the offer.”

Picking up her skirts, she hastened back to the other side of the settlement.

As she approached the main residence thoughts were racing through her mind. 

Celeborn knew of her past history. He made his disapproval of her and Aegnor’s affair very clear when she had initially traveled to Doriath all those years ago. He would not have his wife’s reputation tarnished by Rána’s actions. Only at Lady Galadriel’s insistence had she been allowed to remain in their company. Many centuries had passed since then. Rána proved herself a worthy ally to the Lord and Lady of Lórien many times over. She believed Lord Celeborn’s opinion of her had changed. She did not begrudge his prior disapproval of her actions, but she would not allow him to spoil any future relationship she could potentially have with Haldir.

Her arrival was announced by an attendant. 

There were more people present than what she was expecting. She steadied herself as she came into the room; holding her head proudly on instinct.

Lord Elrond came over to greet her, “Rána, we were wondering if you would make an appearance. Are you feeling alright? Your face is flushed.”

“My apologies, I lost track of time getting ready,” she responded with as bright a smile as she could manage. She pressed her cool palm to her cheek soothing the warmth of her skin.

“It is no concern. It has been so long since you have accepted an invitation to dinner, I was quite surprised when Celebrian told me you would dine with us this evening,” Elrond replied.

A flutist played a light tune as people mingled. There was a formal spread on the table already and she wondered if her tardiness had delayed the meal.

It had been some time since she had dined in such a setting. At the feast Elrond hosted, she was another face in the crowd and able to be lost in the mirthful chaos of the festivities. A dinner party left her exposed. She preferred her solitude tucked away in her own residence far from the prying eyes of the Rivendell court. She wondered if it was her own anxiety causing her to feel uncomfortable among the assembled guests, but the atmosphere around her felt brimming with suspense. 

At Elrond’s invitation, the assembled party began to take their places at the table. Lady Celebrian was already seated at the long dining table. She appeared tired and her coloring was not as vibrant as it had been. Galadriel was notably absent and she wondered if that was the reason for the elleth’s demeanor. She would make sure to bring another batch of elixir to her tomorrow. Rána noted Lord Celeborn and saw he was in discussion with Elrohir. The Lord of Lórien’s eyes wandered to her as she approached the table. Her stomach did a flip as she met his usual uncouth gaze. She looked to Elrohir who was pointedly ignoring her. That was strange. The young elf usually was so happy to see her.

Perhaps accepting an invitation to dinner had been a mistake. 

She spotted an empty chair and took a seat glancing around for Haldir. 

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind her, “I hope you forgive me for not meeting you at the training yards. I was summoned by Lord Celeborn to discuss some matters, but I told Rúmil to pass along my message.”

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw Haldir take a seat by her side. He was carefully dressed in a velvet tunic the color of amber which fell to his knees and a matching cape strung across one shoulder. Even his hair was meticulously braided back into a plait. He looked quite dashing and she felt better knowing she was not the only one who had dressed up for tonight. She spent the entire afternoon picking out a gown to wear and fussing over her hair. She settled on an embroidered gown of pale lavender with a structured bodice. A contrasting silver surcoat completed the ensemble and matched the metal circlet she wore in her hair. 

“It was no problem, I was only concerned some misfortune had occurred,” she said in a low voice so no one would hear their conversation. “I hope everything is alright?”

The Marchwarden seemed like he was about to answer her question when Lord Elrond’s voice cut in.

“A toast to friendship and our future journeys together in this world,” the Lord of Rivendell pronounced. Rána wondered about the Rivendell Lord’s meaning, but sipped her wine anyway.

The table drank next to the health of Lady Celebrian then proceeded to begin the meal.

Rána accepted a serving of freshly baked lambas and a late summer salad festooned with candied fruits. She nibbled on the food, but kept her attention towards Haldir. He was busy conversing with someone else leaving her to push food around on her plate to distract herself. Unlike their earlier conversation near the river, they were surrounded by others making it difficult to converse with one another. She was exceedingly curious about Haldir’s conversation with Lord Celeborn. He did not seem upset, but she felt like there was something going on she was not privy to. 

“You look particularly pretty tonight, Rána. Whatever could be the occasion?” Elladan remarked from across the table. He winked at her proactively, but Elrohir, who sat beside him, would not meet her eye. 

Tonight she did not feel in the mood for such antics. Additionally, she recalled how jealous Haldir had become the night of the feast when she had paid special attention to Lord Elrond’s sons. She shot Elladan a look of warning while feeling several eyes focus on her including Haldir’s. 

Plainly, she responded, “It has been quite some time since I’ve dined in such company. I thought it a special enough occasion to dress accordingly.”

“I wonder what brought you here this evening? We’ve begged you to dine with us for months.”

Before she could answer, Elrohir interrupted, “It is quite obvious what brought Rána out tonight, dear brother.”

“It is not obvious to me,” Elladan smiled. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she cautioned the brothers. She would not be humiliated by them tonight.

Elrohir frowned although his brow was furrowed in anger. The young lordling was known for being vexatious, but his attitude tonight seemed almost malicious. 

“No? Does the Marchwarden at your side have nothing to do with you being here tonight? Everyone can plainly see how you favor Haldir.”

Surely her cheeks were bright red. Haldir went to say something, a dangerous look in his eye, but Rána placed a gentle hand on his forearm and shook her head. She would take care of this matter.

“Elrohir, who I choose to keep company with is none of your business,” she dismissed with a forced smile. “I would expect more from an elf who claims to be my friend.”

“ _Friend_? Is that what you call elves whose hearts you string along for your own amusement?”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“Liar. I demonstrated time and time again my feelings for you, but still I’m forced to watch you fawn over another,” the tone of Elrohir’s voice betrayed a hurt which would, under normal circumstances, make Rána pity the young lordling. Her embarrassment was turning to anger, so she was less inclined to be forgiving. 

Elladan attempted to calm his brother, but Elrohir persevered.

“I never wanted to believe the old rumours about you were true, Rána, but I’m afraid I was mistaken.”

“Elrohir that is enough,” Lord Elrond interjected in an admonishing tone.

Now, all eyes were on their conversation. 

Rána’s ears were ringing. Elrohir’s words came like a slap to her face. Swiftly, she stood from the table without another word. Haldir was saying something to her, but she could not discern what he was saying. 

Fresh air. She needed fresh air as the room felt suddenly suffocating. She made an excuse to the assembled guests. 

Voices were calling her name, but she was already striding towards the door.

* * *

_“With Morgoth’s downfall, many of our kind are choosing to leave Arda to return to the shores of the Undying Lands. Shall you be among those who leave?”_

_Galadriel waited for her answer._

_The notion of returning home seemed like a dream come true to Orithil. However, as she glanced across the foreign countryside of Eriador, she felt sadness overtake her. As much as she wished to be reunited with her family, she knew she could not return home. She would not be welcomed back with open arms after defying her Father’s orders and fleeing in the middle of the night like a thief._

_Furthermore, she could not bear returning to a land where she could see Aegnor once more._

_To be confronted by the sight of his face after mourning the loss of his love for so long would undo her. He would act as a constant reminder of her misdeeds. Her fall from grace was sealed by what she had done with Aegnor. What little pride she had left would be all but buried under the shame she would no doubt experience._

_“No, I shall remain in your company, my lady, if you will have me,” Orithil answered. She focused on the bundles of herbs in her hand. She wound twine around them then hung them from the windowsill to dry in the summer air._

_“I knew you would make this choice, but I wanted to hear you say the words. Now I am free to tell you this: if you choose to remain in this world, I warn you your path shall not be easy.”_

_Orithil wondered what Galadriel could mean._

_Smiling kindly, the Silver Lady continued:_

_“You have already witnessed firsthand how different this world is different from our homeland. Your journey in Middle Earth has already brought you heartbreak. Do not think the worst of it over. You shall experience many events in this world: some by my side, some alone. I shall help you on this path anyway that I can, but you must prepare yourself. You are like the moon;_ _menë rána tië_ _, on a wandering course. Your journey shall not be straightforward.”_

_Rána. The Sindarin word spoke to something deep within her soul. Lady Galadriel guidance would not be taken likely._

_“Do you think I shall find happiness after all of this?” The inquiry passed through her lips without thought._

_Lady Galadriel dipped her head, “Yes, you will one day be very happy again.”_

* * *

There was a nightjar in the distance singing a merry tune. After the disastrous events at dinner, she sought comfort in her residence where her belongings were familiar and the walls did not judge her. She sat on her bed still out on the balcony where she could enjoy the tranquility of night.

There was no excuse for Elrohir’s behavior tonight. Despite this truth, she could not help but blame herself. After so many years spent declaring his undying devotion to her, no matter how playfully such declarations were made, Elrohir was bound to develop some form of true affection for her. He was so young. She remembered what it was like to be reckless at that age. She had not done enough to correct his behavior. If anything, she had played along with his games.

Apparently, her connection to Haldir was evident. Elrohir only played the fool. He was actually very clever and likely discerned the attraction between the healer and the Marchwarden.

Rána felt tired. Not physically spent, but emotionally exhausted as if the many years of buried pain were bubbling to the surface. 

A knock at her front door brought her out of her stupor.

She wondered if it was Lord Elrond or Lady Celebrian coming to make amends for the evening. She was only mildly surprised when Haldir stood at her threshold.

“You left before you could enjoy the meal. I had one of the attendants wrap some of the dishes you were eating,” he explained while holding out a bundle in his hand.

Her stomach grumbled at the smell of fresh lambas and citrus. She accepted the gift. 

“Thank you, I was looking forward to the dinner before everything turned...sour.”

The Marchwarden nodded. A moment of silence passed between them as they seemed to be at a loss for words.   
  


“I’ll be going-”

“Would you care to come in?” Rána offered interrupting his departure. She did not want Haldir to leave. In fact, she craved his company.

He seemed pleased with the offer and stepped foot into her home. She showed him into her living space aware of its appearance to a foreign eye. 

With her pallet on the balcony, the room looked rather empty. It was a fine home expertly crafted in the Rivendell fashion with sloped ceilings and ornate cravings. Her armoire was in the corner holding her clothing and most of her worldly possessions. She had plants tucked away in corners with good sunlight. Books and scrolls were neatly organized on shelves around the tapestried walls. A small crockery was off the main room where she prepared her meals. A modest dining table sat against a wall with a pair of carved chairs. It was not much, but it was her own.

She motioned for him to sit while she busied herself lighting lamps to illuminate the space.

“Elrohir was wrong to attack you in such a way,” Haldir said cutting the silence. “Lord Elrond was admonishing him loudly in front of the gathered party when I was leaving. Lady Celebrian asked me to send her sincerest apologies.”

The mention of Elrohir made her frown. She did not feel like reflecting on the events of the evening. She’d rather forget the whole night ever happened. 

From her stores, she retrieved a silver flagon of wine and two glasses. Placing a glass in front of Haldir, she poured him a modest amount and helped herself to the rest. They touched glasses and drank. 

It was strange how natural this felt, Rána noticed. The presence of Haldir was comforting like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s morning.

“I was looking forward to walking with you this evening before dinner. I much prefer spending time with you alone than being in front of everyone’s prying eyes,” she admitted after a while. She didn’t know if it was the wine which emboldened her frankness or the fatigue of her spirit.

Haldir smiled, his stern brow softening, “I am sorry for missing our meeting. After our discussion by the river earlier today, I was glad you were willing to spend time with me alone again. I feared after the Feast you would forever hold me at arm’s length.”

“I was scared about how I felt for you,” she murmured. “I have not felt this way for another elf in many centuries...there was only one before who I cared about. We were not meant to be together for many reasons.”

“Are those the rumors which Elrohir spoke of?”

The elf’s grey eyes looked to her for confirmation. 

She felt her throat tighten, so she bobbed her head to signal ‘yes’. He seemed to understand.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore, if it is too difficult to speak about,” he assured. He took her hand from across the table and squeezed it gently, “Know that I am here whenever you are ready to talk.”

“Thank you,” she sighed feeling some of the fatigue lift from her spirit. His palm was warm as his fingers gently held her own. 

Rána unwrapped the food the Marchwarden had brought her and enjoyed a few bites of the summer salad. Haldir spoke of his earlier conversation with Lord Celeborn. Lady Galadriel wished to return to Lórien. The Silver Lady did not like to stray far from the protection of the Mallorn trees. However, they feared leaving before Lady Celebrian’s due date. She enjoyed listening to the Marchwarden’s deep voice as he talked of his upcoming duties as she ate her dinner. There would be another patrol, this time near the Mountain Pass, to ensure any and all orcs or goblins were gone. He talked about the progress of his Wardens training with the Rivendell guard. 

They drank their wine in companionable conversation. Rána spoke of her time in Lórien and the more distant Rhovanion among the Horse Lords.

It was domestic comfort. Something she’d always dreamt of sharing with another.

By the time the flagon of wine was empty, it was late into the evening. 

The nightjar’s song drifted in from the open balcony door. 

Rána stood with a swaying step to listen to the bird’s song once more. The wine was a particularly old vintage imported from Mirkwood by way of Bree. Not one for partaking in wine very often, the drink made her mind foggy and her body feel as if she were floating. Haldir still held onto her hand and he righted her before she could tip over. She giggled softly and pulled him out onto the balcony. The Marchwarden, who seemed to be suffering from the influence of the wine as well, followed her without protest.

“Is it normal for the elves of Rivendell to sleep on their balconies?” He asked in jest motioning to her sleeping pallet. 

She shrugged and pulled him to sit on the edge of her bed. 

“I enjoy sleeping under the stars. Do Marchwardens sleep in feather beds every night when they are on patrol?”

“Only I do. It is the benefit to being Chief Marchwarden,” he replied sarcastically.

Rána enjoyed this side of Haldir. He was fully relaxed as they sat together on her bed still holding onto her hand. He gazed out into the distance; a softness in his grey eyes. She yawned a deep yawn and leaned her head against the elf’s broad shoulder. He smelled like soap and pinewood. Like a cat begging for affection, she rubbed her cheek against the velvety fabric. His thumb was rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

“Thank you again for tonight,” she whispered to him. Whether he heard her or not was beyond her immediate comprehension.

The song of the nightjar played like a lullaby in the distance. She felt her eyes close as her breathing deepened. For the first time, in a long time, she slept soundly through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little hiatus does the writer good! Happy New Year to all my readers. Thank you so much for your continued support!


	13. Chapter 13

The heat of the morning sun warmed his skin. Haldir did not remember sunshine in the barracks where he and the rest of the wardens slept. In fact, his bed was far from any windows in order to help him achieve as long and as deep a slumber as possible. An incredibly light sleeper, he did not stop to rest often. When he did sleep, he found himself tossing and turning from the slightest noise.

However, at this very moment, he felt languid like his muscles were made of jelly. The bed beneath him was soft. Softer than any he had ever slept on. There was a contentedness in his chest he had not felt in a long time. He went to move his arm, attempting to stretch out, savoring the ease he felt, and found his arm stuck beneath something solid and warm. On alert, he opened his eyes; sitting up abruptly to take stock of his surroundings. 

This was not the barracks. 

The memories of last night came rushing back to him. 

Much to his own shock and pleasure, he realized his arm had been trapped beneath a slumbering Rána lying beside him. The sound of the elleth’s soft breathing filled the air. She had not reacted to his sudden movement. In fact, she remained on her side curled towards him as if she felt the loss of his presence by her side in her sleep.

He played the night’s events over in his mind.

The disastrous scene at dinner was the start of everything. While others at the party whispered excitedly into their wine goblets, he watched with some pleasure as Lord Elrond scolded Elrohir in front of the assembled dinner guests. Lady Celebrian left the table escorted by her father soon after the incident complaining of some pains. Elrond had followed shortly on his wife’s heel leaving him to finally escape the room. He assembled a tray of food he’d watched Rána enjoy before Elrohir’s verbal attack and believed it would lift the healer’s troubled spirits. 

As she answered the door, she had appeared so desolate he was unsure if his gesture was enough to satisfy. To his own surprise, she had invited him inside her home. Through the course of their conversation, she had told him she cared for him. How she had been afraid of her own feelings. He could not fathom what spurned her declaration, but he was more than pleased with the truth. There had been more talk afterwards, more wine, and some laughter. Under the influence of the wine they consumed, Rána had led him to the balcony where she rested her head against his shoulder. He remembered wanting to embrace her, but knew better than to overreact to her affection. He wouldn’t frighten her off after she’d shared her feelings with him.

On the balcony, she’d fallen asleep draped against his side whispering a “thank you” against his cloak. He had wanted to leave her but found he could not disentangle himself without waking her. Apparently, he had drifted off to sleep beside her drunk on wine and the further intoxication of her presence.

Haldir knew he should leave her home at once. It was highly inappropriate for him to have remained here, for them to be lying in bed together, but he couldn’t help lingering a moment longer than he should. 

Rána was dressed in her lavender gown from last night. He never had the chance to tell her how beautiful she’d looked in the dress. Her dress skirts were strewn up around her legs. He observed her finely shaped calves and rosy knees. Imagined her kneeling on the forest floor collecting ingredients for her brews and serums. The silver circlet she had worn in her hair was abandoned on the floor. Her golden locks were strewn across the bed linens like molten gold over a smith’s anvil. The gentle rise and fall of her chest was mesmerizing. A longing to kiss the exposed skin along her collarbone roared it’s mighty head. He would taste every inch of her if given the opportunity. 

His fingers drifted to play with the silken strands of her hair. Then, they traced over her creamy sharp cheek and the bridge of her thin nose. She murmured in response to his touch. A soft exhale of sound from between her plush petal lips.

Haldir withdrew his hand so as to not disturb her further. 

Gently, the Marchwarden rose from the bed. On impulse, he undid his cloak and draped it across her body. With one last glance to Rána’s slumbering form, the Marchwarden left the healer’s residence for the familiarity of the training yards.

As he journeyed through Rivendell, he saw before his eyes a future where this could become a daily occurence. Waking up to Rána every morning, like he had the privilege of experience today, would be a divine gift from the Valar. Haldir would hasten to secure this reality. He would do all that he could to earn the elleth’s hand. It mattered little what trouble this choice would bring him. He’d gladly weather a thousand storms, like the dinner last night, if it meant having her by his side.

Rúmil was walking out of the barracks as Haldir arrived. His brother’s sparring armor was on and he carried his sword across his waist. Haldir cursed under his breath as his younger brother noted his arrival.

“Where were you last night? I heard there was quite a commotion at dinner and you were last seen taking food to a certain elleth’s residence.”

Haldir growled in response not willing to put up with his brother’s questioning. 

“It is not like you to stay out all night,” his brother continued merrily. “Shall I write to Orophin and tell him to be expecting a sister-in-law upon our return?”

Haldir shot him an incredulous look, “Don’t waste your time. I will meet you in the dueling ring shortly. I need to practice my close hand combat.”

He was the most skilled elf in Lothlórien at close hand combat although Rúmil was always aiming to best him. 

Shaking his head at the obvious ploy to change the subject, Rúmil insisted as he left to change clothes, “It is normal for brothers to discuss these sorts of things, Haldir.”

Haldir knew what his younger brother said was true. However, he would not have Rúmil adding to the talk which was already occurring about his relationship with Rána. It was obvious she did not enjoy public scrutiny. A part of him wondered what secret Elrohir spoke of at dinner last evening. It was the same secret Rána was loath to discuss with him. He would not push her to tell him before she was ready yet his pride demanded to know the truth. 

Was it something to cause genuine concern? Why else would she be so upset at Elrohir’s mentioning of it? 

Changing into his sparring armor, he stretched his limbs. There were already wardens and Rivendell guard littering the training yards. He met Rúmil in one of the sparring circles and unsheathed his sword. 

It felt familiar training with his brother. They’d spent so much time together as children, he, Rúmil, and Orophin, practicing their archery, their sword play, and their scouting. Three brothers run amuck among the trees. He recalled the way his father would encourage their boisterous nature. His father was a well-respected ironworker and outfitted his children with all sorts of weaponry. Haldir had carried a sword and learned to use it before he could even write his own name. On the other hand, his mother had attempted to refine her sons’ sensibilities. A descendant of sages and intellectuals, she wanted them to be educated scholars, not just boorish soldiers. Haldir had never been one for books or composition, neither had Rúmil, but Orophin was skilled enough with his words to earn praise from those who listened to him. 

He missed his parents. He wondered if they would approve of Rána. More than likely, they would think her too good for him.

A sharp blow to his shoulder made him realize he was currently in the middle of a duel.

“Getting sloppy, brother. It looks like I have the upper hand,” Rúmil jeered as he moved to strike again.

Haldir thwarted his attempt and grabbed his right arm twisting it tightly. His younger brother groaned, but he used his momentum to free himself. He staggered to the otherside of the sparring ring. The sour look on Rúmil’s face made him laugh.

“And you should not boast of victory until you achieve it,” he sarcastically lectured. 

They continued their match until his younger brother lay defeated in the dirt. He pulled Rúmil up and clapped him on the shoulder, any animosity between them disintegrating instantly. It's what he enjoyed about being a soldier. The fellowship and camaraderie which came with service to the same cause.

Haldir offered Rúmil a drink from his waterskin and they observed the archery practice together. Across the yard, he saw Lord Elrond arriving.

“Haldir, may I speak with you,” the Lord of Rivendell called to him. 

Leaving his brother’s side, Haldir inclined his head respectfully and followed Elrond away from the training yards.

“Again, I want to offer you my apologies for my son’s behavior last night. I know you care for Rána and did not want to see her embarrassed in such a way,” Elrond sighed looking like any other disappointed parent. “My son has much to learn about these things, and I’m hoping this new development will give him time to reflect on his actions.”

A new development? 

Confused, Haldir asked, “What is this new development, my lord?”

His friend stopped walking, his face momentarily troubled before he continued, “Lord Celeborn spoke to you of Lady Galadriel’s desire to return to Lórien. As you know, my wife finds comfort and strength in the company of her parents. I fear without their presence, Lady Celebrian would not have the stability to continue with the pregnancy. Furthermore, she wants Lady Galadriel at her side when she gives birth to our child. I have reflected on it and believe it is best if the child is born in Caras Galadhon where Lady Celebrian was raised. So, my wife will accompany you on your return to Lórien in a fortnight. There can be no further delay as snow and ice will make the Mountain Pass even more perilous than usual.”

The announcement struck him like a cold knife. Their company was leaving Rivendell. Immediately, he thought of Rána. It seemed like they were finally making progress towards something meaningful only to be separated once more. 

But, he had a duty to the Lord and Lady of Lórien. He was sworn to their service. 

“Shall you join us?” He inquired at a near loss for words.

Elrond shook his head, “No, I shall remain in Rivendell. When the time comes for our child to be born, I will venture to meet you all in Caras Galadhon.”

“I will not lie to you and say I am not disappointed our visit is not longer,” Haldir spoke truthfully.

“Initially you believed this visit quite frivolous,” the Lord of Rivendell pointed out in a mocking tone.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement for his proud behavior, “Yes, but you know very well the reason _why_ I now wish to stay.”

Lord Elrond clasped his hands behind his back, a knowing glint in his eye, “There is more to this development I have not told you. I spoke of my son needing to be taught a lesson. Elrohir needs to learn there are consequences to his actions. If I believed my son’s affection for Rána was genuine, I would take better care to consider his feelings. From what I witnessed last night, I believe he only sees her as a play companion; a toy he does not wish to share with others.”

Haldir agreed with Lord Elrond’s assessment.

“After discussing it with Lady Celebrian, we think it best that Rána of the Vanyar travel with the company leaving for Lórien. Celebrian wants Rana to act again as her midwife. Her time away from Rivendell will force Elrohir to get over his childish infatuation with the elleth. Additionally, we think it would do Rána good to be somewhere new, and you shall have the opportunity to court her further.”

Rána would accompany them to Lothlórien. This news was surreal. He would get her alone away from others and their meddling. Immediately, he pictured all that they would do together. He could show her the golden trees in winter. The way the silver bark sparkled when it was covered with ice. Although this land was not foreign to her, she could experience it from his eye and by his side. It was more than Haldir could’ve hoped for. He felt indebted to Lord Elrond.

“Shall I tell her the news?” He asked itching to be in her company. The sun was bright in the sky above their heads. She was likely to be at the healing wing this time of day. Would she be sad to abandon her posting? What if she refused the invitation?

As if reading his concerns, Elrond waved him back to the training yards,

“Lady Celebrian is informing Rána of the plan. She will surely agree to the journey once she considers the circumstances. It is only right that she take advantage of this opportunity. For so long, she has lived her life for others not herself. We all would like to see her happy.”

Soon after, Elrond left him to begin preparations. There would be a lot of planning to do now that Celebrian joined their party. Haldir returned to his training with a renewed energy. He was excited at the notion of Rána traveling with them to Lothlórien. It seemed everything was falling into place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review! Excited for a change of scenery?

**Author's Note:**

> Please provide kudos and comments!


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